


Where Were You Last Night?

by silverneko9lives0



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bofur is a Sweetheart, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Secrets, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 13:55:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 21,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1228936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverneko9lives0/pseuds/silverneko9lives0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bombur owns a diner which Bofur goes to after work nightly. One day, a man who has never been there before shows up in bruises. Bofur reaches out and falls in love with this man…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_I call and I call_

_Just to make things right._

_Have I lost the fight?_

_Where were you last night?_

_ Where Were You Last Night?-Nightwish Cover _

“Night, Bombur!” The regular said, passing through the door. Bofur stepped in after him, yawning.

“Ev’nin’ brother,” he said, collapsing at the counter.

“Coffee, Bof?”

“No! God no,” he chuckled. “Last time I did that, I got nasty bout of nightmares. Tea will do tonight, thanks. Decaf, Bombur.”

“You’ll fall asleep at the wheel.”

“I take a cab. I keep telling you that.”

“Eats away at your savings, Bof. Get a car.”

“No. Parking’s a pain. I’ll do without a car.”

Bombur rolled his eyes. “One cup of tea coming up. And a plate of biscuits. A little pick me up.”

“Oh. Thanks. What I really want is a chicken platter.”

“Fine. One chicken platter and then biscuits,” Bombur says. He looks past Bofur as the door opens. “Welcome to Bombur’s!” he booms, his voice faltering a little.

Bofur turned around and his eyes widened.

He’s back.

The man moves stiffly, hands stuffed in his jean pockets. He pulls his right hand out to remove his sunglasses. He’s on the small side and his unruly golden hair falls into his eyes. One eye is black. There’s a cut on his cheek. A second bruise is forming on his other cheek and a third on his forehead.

Bofur jumps out of his seat. “Are you all right?”

The man halts, turning to him. “Yes. I’m fine.” He sits in the far corner, leaning over the table and rubbing the back of his neck.

“What do you think happened to him?” A woman asked.

“Probably mugged,” Bombur said. “It happens. Though…he does come in more and more and those bruises just get worse and worse. They never heal. So maybe not mugged…”

“If that’s the case, I’ll pay for the chap,” Bofur said.

“You’re heart’s too big, Brother.”

“Shut it! You were thinking of giving him something on the house, weren’t you? He’s not a stray, Bombur.”

“I don’t take money from you.”

“Because I’m your brother. The chap’s clearly been through it rough, so shut it. You already do enough good deeds, Bombur.”

Bombur sighed. “Fine. But only this once.”

“Good enough for me.”

He went to hand the man a menu. Bofur turned to look at him again. The guy was still leaning down over the table, flipping through the menu.

 _Go say hello,_ a voice urged in the back of his head. He stood and approached.

The man stared at the menu, seeming not to notice Bofur approach. “Hello, Lad.”

He snapped his head up. “Good evening,” he said stiffly.

“May I sit here?”

He nods. Bofur slides into the other seat. “Name’s Bofur Broadbeam,” he says, offering his hand. “My brother’s the owner.”

“Oh,” the man grasped his hand. “I’m Bilbo Baggins.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Bilbo.”

“Likewise.” He tensed, shifting to a defensive mode.

“That’s quite the, er, shiner you got there, Lad.”

Bilbo touched his bruised eye and winced. “Yeah. I’ll be fine. I heal pretty fast.” He gives Bofur a grin meant to be reassuring, but the injuries are only enhanced by the tugged muscles around his mouth.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Thank you for your concern, but I’m quite all right.”

“One hamburger,” Bombur said, placing a basket with a large, overstuffed hamburger and chips in front of Bilbo. “And one chicken platter and tea,” he set them down in front of Bofur.

Bombur waddled away.

Bilbo seized the burger and fitted almost half of it in his mouth at one go.

“I take it you’re hungry?” Bofur asked, trying not to laugh. It would be rude to, considering Bilbo probably experienced something traumatic quite recently.

“Famished,” he said after swallowing.

“So…what do you do for a living, Bilbo?”

“I own a café downtown. You?”

“I work in the mines outside of town…are you sure—”

“Look, you seem like a nice guy, whacky hat aside.” Bofur blinked. He didn’t think his hat was that whacky. “But I don’t want to talk about my injuries. All right?”

“Okay. Sorry. It just…”

“Puts one off?”

“Yeah,” Bofur said. Bilbo took another giant bite. Bofur decided to save face and just eat. The silence is awkward, but what could he talk to Bilbo about other than his injuries?

Bombur returns with tea for the two of them and a large platter of chocolate chip biscuits.

“Erm…”

“My brother likes to feed people and he thinks sugar makes everyone feel better.”

“Oh.”

“They’re actually very good,” Bofur assured him. “Try one.”

The man swallowed. He reached one, placed it between his teeth, and bit down, chewing. He smiled. “I wonder if your brother would be willing to give me the recipe. These are amazing!”

Bofur laughed. “I doubt it. He’s pretty protective of his recipes.”

Bilbo shrugged. “Never hurts to ask,” he says, taking another bite out of the cookie in his hand.

“You come often,” Bofur said.

“So do you,” Bilbo pointed out. “Though that makes sense since your brother owns the place. It’s close and convenient for me, if that’s what you’re asking. And I’m usually left alone.”

“Well, everyone’s gotten used to you enough to care a bit, so…”

Bilbo narrowed his eyes.

“Just saying!” Bofur said, holding his hands up in defense. “I mean no offense.”

Bilbo still does not exit this defensive mode. He stands and heads to pay, leaving before Bofur could figure out what the issue is with his injuries.

Clearly getting him to open up directly would not suffice.

“What was that about?” Bombur asked, approaching. “I thought you were going to pay for him?”

“I was! He left before I could offer!”

Bofur leaned back, pulling out his cigarettes.

Bombur seized the pack. “Not in my restaurant, Bof.”

“Fine.”

Bombur returned the pack and it went back into Bofur’s pocket, he settled for drinking his now lukewarm tea.

He didn’t even know which café downtown Bilbo owned, so he couldn’t go there to speak to the chap. Bofur resigned to wait until next Friday when Bilbo came in next.

“The funny thing is if not for those bruises, he’d probably be quite the looker,” he mumbled.

Bombur rolled his eyes. “Don’t drag me into your own preferences, Bof. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You’re a jerk, Bombur.”

“No I’m not. You love me and you know it.”

“Jerk.”

“Don’t start that…”

Bofur sighed. He bade goodbye and left, finally feeling free to smoke.

Bombur might be hoping it’s just a mugging, but the man’s been coming nearly three weeks already and his injuries keep getting worse.

There’s no way that’s from a basic, run of the mill mugging.


	2. Chapter 2

The following week had been tough, so when Bofur visited Bombur, he was weary enough to dare ordering coffee. He knew he’d regret it later, but for now, he did not care.

“Thanks, Brother.”

“Not a problem. Oh! Welcome back, Mr. Baggins.”

Bofur turns to give Bilbo a smile, which dies when he sees the increase of bruises and cuts.

Bilbo chuckles. “I know: I’m a picture of beauty. Could I have another hamburger?”

“Coming right up, Laddie,” Bombur said.

Bilbo managed a smile and went to his seat.

Bombur leaned closer to Bofur.

“So long as you don’t talk about his injuries he tends to be very sociable once he knows you. Ran into him at the supermarket two days ago. He looked better then too. I wonder what happened this time.”

Bofur wondered too. He took his coffee and went to Bilbo’s table again.

“I was wondering where exactly downtown your café was,” he said, sitting down.

Bilbo blinked at him, startled.

“Hobbiton Street near Shire University.”

“Oh, Shire district. What brings you to Erebor’s plot on the grid? Pretty far…” _Didn’t he say the diner was close by for him last time?_

Bilbo shrugged.

“I like the food here. Need I reason other that?”

“Certainly not!” Bofur laughed, grinning. “My brother should be working in French restaurants, shouldn’t he?”

“I’d have to taste his French cuisine first to be a proper judge, but if you say he could manage it, I believe you.”

“Well, you own a café…”

“So I do. We serve Chicago style pastries now. Very nice, to be honest…goes well with the coffee.”

“Yeah…this place is actually Bombur’s baby, so he isn’t keen on moving up though he could own his own bloody chain!”

Bofur raised the coffee mug to his lips.

“I understand completely,” Bilbo said. “I love my work almost as much as I do my nephew.”

Bofur set the mug down.

“You have a nephew?”

Bilbo nods.

“Frodo works at the shop after school. Normally I don’t hire anyone younger than eighteen, but it keeps him mostly out of trouble and all he really does for now is bus the tables and take out the trash. Not that bad for a sixteen year old miscreant.”

Bombur came around and set the platter in front of Bilbo.

“Thanks, Bombur.”

“Sixteen, huh?”

“He’s started high school this year,” Bilbo said, a hint of pride in his voice. “Smart kid, bit of a…troublemaker, but overall not all around bad. I figured the job might help him, but you know.”

“Finds trouble anyway.”

“Pretty much,” Bilbo said before taking a bite.

“Must help his parents, letting him work.”

Bilbo swallowed.

“Actually, I’m his guardian. Frodo’s parents…they passed away on a boating trip when he was in elementary school.”

Bofur felt a pit in his stomach the size of an asteroid crater.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Bilbo shrugged, taking another bite out of the sandwich.

“I’ve no renegade teen nephews, thank goodness. Bombur’s insanely large family is still in their elementary and kindergarten years. And my cousin Bifur was in the army for a bit. For a while it used to just be the three of us.”

“Was in the army?”

“He got a head injury which messed with his ability to speak properly; was dismissed on honorable discharge. He’s lucky to be alive and other than that, he’s just fine. Has all his cognitive functions, understands people perfectly. He just can’t speak as well as he used to. Bombur and I visit him when we can. He has his own online business selling handmade toys and trinkets. Always loved kids, Bif,” Bofur took another sip.

“What’s the website, if I may ask?”

“Broadbeam toys dot com,” Bofur said.

“Hmm…”

The door banged shut. Bofur turned around, startled.

The man who entered was tall and broad shouldered. His long ebony hair was pulled back in a pony tail. He was dressed in faded blue jeans and heavy worker boots. He wore a leather jacket over his shoulders and a black muscle shirt. He had a trimmed beard and ice blue eyes.

He looked around for moment before his eyes settled past Bofur and walked in said direction.

“I thought we were going drinking tonight, Bilbo,” he said.

“I live on the other side of town. I’d rather not go home drunk. You know that, Thorin.”

“Right. Sorry. Though I did offer to drive—”

“I can get home fine, thanks, without your help.”

Bofur followed the tense conversation, unsure exactly what was happening. The newcomer, Thorin, commanded respect simply by being there. Bilbo, however, seemed to be shrinking in his seat, trying to seem insignificant and invisible.

“Fine. Jeez.” He leaned down to whisper something in Bilbo’s ear, making him tense further.

“Okay. I’ll see you then.”

Thorin walked out of the diner without another word.

“Sorry about that,” Bilbo said when Thorin was gone. “He had decided to go drinking with his buddies and assumed I’d come to.”

“Do you usually?”

“No, of course not,” Bilbo said, waving his hand in the air as though casting it aside. “I’ve a teenager to set an example for, after all.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Bofur said slowly. “I, er, also forgot to ask what the name of your establishment is?”

“Bag End,” Bilbo said, standing. “It’s a bit hard to miss. It’s a light brown building with a green door and a white picket fence. Come by sometime. Free coffee for first time visitors.”

“Really?”

“No. But I’ll make an exception for you.”

Bofur blushed as he walked away to pay for his meal.

He leaned on the table. Bilbo seemed to have an affinity for packing away anything set in front of him. The guy probably ate like a linebacker. Never left a plate empty…

Bilbo only ate half of his hamburger tonight.

An impossibility in of itself as everyone _loves_ Bombur’s sandwiches. Something shook him up. It had to have been Thorin.

“Is that what I think it is?!” Bombur exclaimed.

“It is.”

“But…how?!” He sat down, belly pushing against the table.

Bofur sighed. “You think it might have something to do with that man who came in here before Bilbo left? He seemed to shake the lad up pretty good.”

“He did. I noticed. What was that about?”

“Fussy over getting ditched for drinks, it seemed. That can’t be normal behavior, chasing after someone like that.”

“Not where I stand,” Bombur said. “So it’s not my cooking?”

“I doubt it ever _will_ be your cooking, Bombur,” Bofur assured him. “Bilbo was just shaken. He probably lost his appetite on account of that. Which…is kind of…”

He leaned back, stroking his mustache.

“Have I any right to be worried?”

“You’re not getting a crush on Bilbo, are you?”

“No. That’s ridiculous! I don’t know if he fancies blokes anyway. And it won’t matter if he doesn’t.”

“Well, I’d say not to start worrying about anything until a little later,” Bombur advised. “Since there isn’t a lot of information to go on yet…”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’,” Bofur said, leaning on the table again.

“But I’m worried myself,” Bombur admitted. “Something odd _definitely_ just took place in here.”

“Whatever that man said to Bilbo scared him off.”

Bofur picked up a chip and bit into it. Salt and pepper and oil potato countered the taste of coffee on his tongue. It does not really mix, he decided.


	3. Chapter 3

Bag End was no building. It was a house on the corner of the street between the residential houses and the shops.

Bofur stepped through the picket fence gate past a very lovely garden. (Not that Bofur knew much about gardening, but it was full of flowers and colorful without a trace of weeds, so he _guessed_ it was lovely.)

There were outdoor tables with umbrellas along the lawn (currently unused) and within were similar tables and chairs, minus the umbrellas, and filled with many youths who probably lived on Campus at Shire University. Tuckborough Hall was the closest dorm.

One of the lads was wiping down a recently vacated table.

“Excuse me,” Bofur said, approaching him. “You wouldn’t happen to know where I can find Bilbo Baggins, would you?”

The brunette looked at him through ice blue eyes. “May I ask who’s asking?”

“Bofur,” he replied. “He’ll know who you mean.”

The lad frowned. “And I thought I knew all of Bilbo’s mates,” he mumbled. “I’ll let him know you’re here.”

“Thanks, er…”

“Frodo.”

“Frodo. Again, thanks.”

The lad nodded and carried the bucket of dirty dishes to the back. Bofur leaned against the wall, a little taken aback by Frodo’s unexpected attitude. Was the lad usually so rude? Bilbo stepped out. The bruises were still very visible, yet less disturbing. His cuts were mostly healed now to.

“I didn’t think you’d actually find time to come,” Bilbo said.

Bofur grinned. “I made a promise, didn’t I?”

“Promises get broken. I wouldn’t have held it against you. Would you like a drink? Or perhaps something to eat?”

“A regular brew will be fine, thanks.”

Bilbo walked around the counter to make said cup. “Do you take anything with it?”

“No.” He handed Bofur a paper cup with a sleeve. He prepared a second cup for himself.

“Sam,” he said to an older lad, “I’m taking a break.”

“All right, Mr. Baggins,” Sam replied.

Bilbo led Bofur to another table and they sat. “First off, I am sorry about Frodo.”

“I said nothing against the lad.”

“But he was rude to you. I could tell.”

Bofur shrugged. “He looks to be the sort that needs to let someone grow on him first. Doesn’t seem trusting of others though…”

“No, he isn’t,” Bilbo chuckled. “I don’t know what to do about him half the time.”

“He seems to just be at that age,” Bofur assured him. “I’m not offended in the slightest. I’m sure he and I could be good friends given a little time. Like us.” He held his coffee up. “It took a while to get here, but if it means free caffeine, then I must have a good taste in friends.”

Bilbo smiled again. “As would I. For someone used to eating his brother’s five star diner food, I’m surprise you like my coffee.”

“True, I’ve high expectations when it comes to food. Eating at Bombur’s will do that to you, but I’m impressed so far.”

“Good,” Bilbo said, leaning on the table. “I’d hate to start charging you.” Bofur fought down the blush gracing his face.

_God, those eyes…_

“You probably will eventually,” Bofur said. “Can’t go about losing income, right? I’d hate to mooch off you. I do enough of that at Bombur’s.”

“Well, there’s reason enough for me to not charge you period: you might come by more often.”

Bofur swallowed. Was he actually…Bilbo was really… _flirting_?

Frodo tapped Bilbo’s shoulder. “Sorry, Bill, but Thorin’s here.” The coy smile vanished. Frodo shifted his glance to Bofur. “Is he not—”

“No. He’s not,” Bilbo whispered a little more loudly than Bofur thought he knew.

“Oh. I already got his drink ready and stuff.”

“Okay.”

“But he wants to talk to you about…you know what.”

Bilbo stood, “Sorry, Bofur.” Bofur’s throat constricted. He didn’t think he heard Bilbo say his name before. “I’ll be right back.”

He walked away toward Thorin, leaning against a wall. Bofur stared at his cup before finishing the coffee within it. He watched the interaction between Bilbo and Thorin, wondering if everything was all right.

Bilbo seemed tense: arms crossed, eyes narrowed, scowling. It wasn’t much different from the last time Bofur had seen the tall man. Thorin had a presence that filled the room.

He saw Thorin nod and leave.

Bilbo’s shoulders dropped and he pinched the bridge of his nose before returning. “I am sorry about that,” he said, voice shaking slightly.

“Is everything okay?”

“What?” Bilbo blinked. “Oh. Yes.”

“Are you sure? The last time I saw him, you left without finishing your food.”

“I did?” Bilbo said. “I guess I got distracted. No wonder I returned home still hungry last Friday.”

“Bilbo, who is Thorin?”

The glare that appeared whenever his injuries were brought up in conversation appeared. Bofur frowned back, but dropped the subject.

“All right, I won’t pry further.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo sighed.

“But if you ever _want_ to talk, I’m here if you like.”

His smile returned. “Thank you,” he repeated in a happier tone.

Bofur swallowed. It had to be those eyes. Behind the bruises and cuts…bright green and…and that _smile_ …

“I should…get back to work,” Bilbo said regretfully. “You’re always welcome to come in, if you like and grab a cup or a bite.”

“Sure. Will I see you Friday?”

“Yes.”

#

“Stop twitching,” Bombur snapped. Bofur jumped, looking at him. “Great elephants and Winnie the Pooh, you’re making me antsy just sitting there.”

Bofur furrowed his brow. “Winnie the Pooh?”

“Habit,” Bombur said in his defense. “Comes with having kids. Have to watch your tongue or they’ll mime everything that comes out of your mouth.”

“You’re never going to live that one down.”

Bombur shrugged. “Some people think it’s cute.”

“Oh it is cute. Undeniably cute, Brother…” Bofur’s grin slacked and he turned back to the door.

“Stop it!”

“He’s late.”

“He’s _not_ late. What’s gotten into you, Bof? Bilbo will be here soon, so stop twitching like that.”

Bofur glared at him. “I’m _not_ twitching. It’s just…he always comes in beaten to a pulp and I’m worried he might not come back anymore and it’d be because I didn’t make him tell me what the hell is wrong and why he is always so beaten to pieces and I wasn’t able to help him.”

Bombur hummed, leaning on the counter, staring at Bofur.

“What?”

“You haven’t fallen for the guy, have you?”

Bofur furrowed his brow, frowning. “What do you mean by that? No. Of course not.” _But that would make sense._

“Someone’s in denial.”

“Shut up,” Bofur snapped, glaring. He turned back to the door, biting his lip. Gods, he needed to smoke, if only to calm his nerves. A plate clattered, making him jump. He stared at the biscuits in front of him. “Erm…”

“Eat.”

“Won’t these make me more anxious?”

“They’ll keep you occupied until Bilbo comes, so _eat_ ,” Bombur snapped, handing him a cup of steaming tea. “And have some tea. Just stop fidgeting, Bofur.”

Bofur grudgingly obeyed, nibbling on a cookie whilst staring at the door.

Finally, he spied that red jacket and the mess of curly hair. Bofur could feel his heart race, anticipating the slow seconds it took for Bilbo to open the door.

When the glass door swung open, Bofur thought his heart would stop.


	4. Chapter 4

Bilbo manages a small smile, making his split lip pool fresh blood. “Hey, guys,” he greets, limping further into the diner. His eye is bruised and there is a red split cut over said eye. His nose is slightly swollen under the gauze. His chin is scraped. Both cheeks are swollen with bruises.

Bofur jumps up. He stops himself from pulling Bilbo into his arms.

Bilbo blinks at him with his good eye.

He pushes his hesitation aside and embraces Bilbo, shaking.

“Come back here,” Bombur said. “I’ll get the first aid kit.”

Bofur nods, speechless and leads Bilbo into the kitchen.

“It’s okay, I’m really okay,” he tries, but a look from both brothers silences him. Bilbo sighs and lets himself be pushed onto a table while Bombur fetches the kit.

“Fuck, Bilbo,” Bofur whispers, trying not to cry. He wasn’t one to cry, but seeing Bilbo this beaten brought it out of him.

Bombur returns with the kit. “You got this?”

“Yeah.”

“All right. You know where to find me if you need anything.” Bombur leaves them in the kitchen.

Bofur doesn’t know where to begin. He decides cleaning the wounds would be a good place. He rips open a packet of rubbing alcohol and dabs Bilbo’s cuts, who winces at each sting.

“Bilbo, this is getting out of hand.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

He bangs his hand on the table, startling Bilbo.

“You need to talk about it,” Bofur shouts. He swallows, reigning his temper in. “Are you being abused? Is that why you won’t talk about it?”

Bilbo blinks repeatedly. He almost bites his lip, but remembers the cut and stops himself. “Yes,” he said. “That’s it exactly.”

“Is it Thorin?” Bilbo stares at Bofur. He nods. Bofur’s head feels foggy and hot, rage pooling through him. He fights it down, concentrating on cleaning these wounds. He throws away the swabs to dab ointment on the injuries.

“Stay with me for a few days,” he says. He wants to take the words back as soon as they are out of his mouth. Bilbo glares at him. “Only until you’re healed and can get away from him. This isn’t going to—”

“I can take care of myself, Bofur. I’m not a child.”

“I never said you were! Bilbo, I’m scared for you. _This_ isn’t okay.”

Bilbo averts his gaze to the floor. Bofur sighs and gets the ice pack, handing it to Bilbo. He stares at it before taking it and pressing it against his eye.

The silence between them is suffocating.

“I can handle Thorin just fine,” Bilbo says, trying to sound assuring. “And Frodo’s okay. You saw him for yourself.”

“So he’s only beating you and not the kid. That doesn’t make it better, Bilbo.” Bilbo blinked at him with his good eye, seeming perplexed. “You have to know this isn’t okay. Bilbo if this goes on or gets worse, Thorin might kill you one day.” _I can’t bear that_.

He laughs. Bilbo actually laughs. “I fight back, Bofur—”

“Have you looked in a mirror?!” Bofur shouts. “You look like you lost a fight with a lawnmower! Okay, you fight back. Great to know! He’s clearly stronger.”

How can Bilbo just _shrug_ like it’s nothing? He doesn’t even look worried. He doesn’t even seem concerned for his own safety!

Bofur’s stomach churned at the idea of Bilbo’s uncaring attitude toward his situation.

“You know,” Bilbo says, easing onto his feet with a grunt. “I think I’ll take my dinner to-go for once.”

“There’s no need for—”

A phone goes off. Bilbo pulls the cell out and answers.

“Hello? I’ll be back home soon, Frodo. Don’t worry, Lad. All right, I’ll see you as soon as I can. Would you like me to bring you something to eat? Okay. I’ll do that. Bye.”

He hangs up and pockets the phone. He limps out to the front, ordering two hamburgers and large chips to-go.

“Bilbo—”

Bofur paused at the icy glare Bilbo sent him. “I told you. So at least do me a favor and leave me alone,” he growled. Bofur froze.

“I only want to help.”

“I did not _ask_ for your help. What makes you think I want it?” And like that, Bilbo turned away as though the matter had been settled.

As the meals were made, Bombur kept shifting his gaze to Bofur, mentally asking him what he had said or done that had upset Bilbo so much. Ten suffocating minutes later, Bilbo limped out of the diner.

“Not that I can blame you for lack of tact, since you’re tactless as it is,” Bombur said, “But what was that about? Is Bilbo okay?”

Bofur bowed his head and sat down. “No. He’s definitely not.”

#

“It’s been two weeks!” Bofur snapped at Bombur, who sighed. “What if—”

“He’s fine,” Bombur said. “I saw him at the market this morning.”

“A lot could have happened since this morning,” Bofur concluded, though relieved that the other thirteen days had seen Bilbo still alive.

“I thought we established that you wouldn’t be falling in love with the guy.”

Bofur sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know.”

“So you go and fall in love with the guy anyway.”

“Seems like it.”

Bombur hums. “Well, what are you doing moping about it? Go tell the guy.”

Bofur scoffs. “He probably hates me now.”

“Doubtful,” Bombur said. “The nice thing about being on the sidelines is one sees Person A checking out Person B when Person B isn’t looking and then Person B is eying Person A with a look clearly screaming ‘I’d tap that.’”

Bofur raised a brow. “‘I’d tap that,’ Bombur? Really?”

“Easiest way to describe how Bilbo looks at you when you’re not looking at him with the same expression…when you’re not wondering how in the high heavens someone could treat him like that,” Bombur explained.

Bofur laid his head down, frowning. “Do you think I should back off like he wants me to?”

“Hell no!” Bombur booms. “Whoever Bilbo’s partner is, he’s an asshole and I’m rooting for you to steal him away. So stop being all depressed and go see him.”

“The café is closed right now.”

“So?” It’s still his place, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“Bofur, get off your ass and go to him.”

Bofur clenched and unclenched his hands before standing. “If it goes bad, I will blame you.”

“Fair enough, but if it goes well, I don’t want any details.” Bombur was cut off by the door shutting behind Bofur. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and descended the steps to the street, flagging a cab and gave directions to Bag End.

After paying and stepping out of the cab, his doubts returned. Should he even be here? What if Thorin was here at the moment? What if Bombur was wrong and Bilbo wants nothing to do with him?

Bofur swallowed and stepped past the picket fence and approach the door, curling his hand into a fist and pounding the door.

He waited a few minutes before debating between leaving and knocking again. As he decided to leave and barely turned around, the door opened.

“Bofur?” Bilbo asked. “What are you doing here?”

His face was covered in bandages. “What—”

“I went to the doctor,” Bilbo said. “Needed a couple stitches. Would you like to come in?” Bofur nodded and Bilbo stepped aside for him. “Is something wrong?”

 _So much is wrong right now_ , Bofur thought. “I was worried.”

“Oh.”

Bofur pulled him into a hug. “I don’t know why you’re staying with him and I wish to God you’d realize the best thing to do is to leave him, but until then, I’m here for you. I love you, Bilbo.”

Bilbo pushed him away for a moment, staring at him.

Bofur’s heart pounded rapidly as fear crawled up his spine. Of course Bilbo would be shocked by his confession. He had someone, albeit a douchebag—

His lips are slightly chaffed against Bofur’s. Bofur pressed back, cupping the back of Bilbo’s head, fingers threading through his copper curls. They broke away for a moment.

“Is Thorin—”

“I don’t want to talk about Thorin. He’s not here. That’s all I care about right now.”


	5. Chapter 5

If Bofur was one hundred percent honest, he felt like air.

Not a bad feeling.

At all.

Nope.

Everything was perfect.

Well, except that the person he was in love with is dating a dick who delighted in changing his normal coloring to black and blue.

Other than that, everything was great.

Bilbo’s back was turned to him, breathing as easily as he could in his state. Bofur trailed light kisses down his arm, trying to relive the previous evening’s flow of events in his mind. After Bilbo kissed him, he led him up here.

Bofur had wept when he saw the state of Bilbo’s torso, bandaged as it was. A splotch of purple peeked through the bandages. Bilbo had assured him it was all right, pushing Bofur onto the bed, straddling his lap and kissing him deeply.

He didn’t want Bilbo to tax himself if he was too injured. Bilbo pushed those thoughts aside, tugging his sweat pants down. The lower body, save for the injured leg, also bruised, miraculously was a pale cream color. He leaned down, teasing Bofur’s nipples while ridding him of his jeans and boxers.

Bilbo then slid him to full hardness before sliding a condom (found in his bedside drawer with a bottle of lubricant, also brought out) onto Bofur’s cock before covering one on his own ( _for less mess_ , he had said). Bilbo coated his hand in lube, reached around and inserted them into his hole.

Bofur’s cock twitched in interest, remembering that. Beneath the bruises and cuts on Bilbo’s face, the look he gave Bofur…

God, he was beautiful.

After Bilbo had stretched himself, he coated Bofur’s cock with lube and eased down onto him. Bofur tried to stop him. He didn’t want to hurt Bilbo, but his protests died when Bilbo moved—

Bilbo shifted to look at him.

“Morning,” he grunted, shifting to lie on his back. He groaned, wincing as he moved.

Bofur frowned. "Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Stiff.” Bilbo stretched, putting his arms behind his head. “How about yourself?”

“Well enough.” Bofur smiled, cupping Bilbo’s cheek, tracing the curve of his lips with his thumb. “My God, you’re beautiful.”

Bilbo frowned. “Not a woman.”

“Beautiful all the same.” Bilbo rolled his eyes. “What? Men can’t be beautiful?”

“Not exactly in our genetic code.”

“I have a hard time believing that,” Bofur said. “And I think so do you.”

Bilbo looked aside. “So I have some…masculinity issues, nothing really important.”

Bofur kissed him. “I think you’re very masculine as you are.”

“I’m shorter than most men; have been my whole life. And I’ve always had more delicate features. I’m doing what I love and I am who I am, but I’m often…judged for it.”

“So?” Bofur shifted to lean over Bilbo, careful not to press on his bruises. “I love you for who you are. There’s nothing effeminate about you. You know what I see? I see a good man, who loves his nephew, who has good hands to make things with to feed people because that’s where his talent lies. I see someone who is good at taking care of people, who is kind and compassionate. Like it or not, that makes you more masculine than some men I know who work in the mines. And let’s be honest, there are plenty of men who have features some describe as ‘delicate.’ It doesn’t make them…”

“Effeminate?”

Bofur pressed his forehead to Bilbo’s. He caressed his cheek, kissed his lips. “Exactly. Anyone who says otherwise is a douche. What you do for a living or how you look should not dictate how masculine you are.” _Nor should it give anyone the right to do what Thorin does to you._

Two raps at the door warns them of an intruder. Bilbo sits up fast. He gasps, clutching his ribs.

“Bilbo?”

“I’m fine, Frodo.”

“Sam’s here, he wants to know if he should open shop since…you haven’t. Is it safe to come in?”

Bilbo glances at the clock. “Fuck.” He jumped out of bed, hobbling to the dresser. “Frodo let Sam in and tell him to get things started for me. I’ll be down in half an hour.”

“Okay. Oh! Thorin’s here too.”

Bofur gets up grabbing his clothes from off the floor. “Go ahead and get ready,” he said. “I’ll—this is a very bad idea. Isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Bilbo said. “Very bad.”

“Thank God I’m a miner. Though, I’m a little scared I’m going to scar your nephew.”

Bilbo snorted. “He’s sixteen and maybe a little too curious. I highly doubt he knows nothing about sex.”

“On who’s fault?”

“His own, Sam’s, uh…most of my friends, most of his friends…yeah, not much can faze Frodo.”

Bofur shrugged, pulling Bilbo into another kiss. “I’ll test that. Go get ready. I’ll take care of Thorin.”

Bilbo paled. “There’s really no need—”

“Have you looked in the mirror lately? I’d say there’s a need.” Bofur kissed him again. “Like hell I’d let him hurt you more. This ends today. Okay?”

“I don’t need to be protected, Bofur.”

“I’m not saying you do, but a little help wouldn’t hurt would it? Let me help.”

Bilbo sighed, he still looked so pale. Bofur feared he may pass out at any moment. “Be careful. I’ll be down soon.”

Bofur left the room, hands curled into fists. He only had one thing in mind he knew for sure he wanted to do. Sadly, punching a guy in public could only cause more harm than do good.

Punching Thorin would have to wait. He was talking to Sam downstairs, smiling amiably as they talked. Even Frodo seemed to be deceived by this man, who talked to him just as kindly. Did they not know Thorin hurt Bilbo?

 _Christ above the man’s huge_ , Bofur thought, rethinking his plan. He squared his shoulders, trying to seem more intimidating than usual.

“Mate,” he called. The trio turned to him. “Big guy, can I talk to you a mo’?”

Thorin tilted his head to the side. “Sure.” He closed distance between them. “How can I help you?”

“I know about your relationship with Bilbo and I know what you do to him.”

“What?” He actually had the gall to looked confused. “Sorry, I think you have the wrong idea.”

“I don’t. Bilbo told me,” Bofur growled. “Go ahead and pretend all you like. But mark my words, if I catch you near Bilbo again, I’ll make you wish you never touched him.”

Thorin’s eyes flashed. “What did you say to me?” he hissed.

“You know exactly what I said.”

Frodo ran past them up the stairs.

“You don’t know shit about me or Bilbo. You’ve no right to threaten me—”

“I know enough!” Bofur shouted, startling the customers already within. “I know you’re scum! I know you beat—”

“Bofur, stop! That’s enough!” Bilbo shouted, pushing them apart. “Same to you, Thorin—where are you going?”

“I’ll try my luck at Starbucks,” he snapped, slamming the door behind him.

“What was that about?” Frodo asked, glowering at Bofur. “Thorin’s—”

Bilbo sent Frodo a scathing glare, instantly silencing the boy.

Bofur sighed. “I guess I just made things worse rather than better.”

“Way you went about it, it was expected. I’ll handle Thorin my own way.”

“Handle?” Bofur repeated. He traced a still healing scar on Bilbo’s temple, but healed enough it did not pain him. “Bilbo, he beat the crap out of you more than enough times to make you look like you lost a fight with a brick wall. Who’s to say he won’t kill you next time?”

“He won’t. I promise, he won’t.”

“You can’t promise that! It’s only a matter of time before—”

Bilbo grasped his hands, pushing them away from his face. “Bofur, Thorin won’t kill me. I will handle this. Just trust me, please.”

“I do trust you. I don’t trust your instinct.”

Bilbo’s jaw clenched as though he was trying to school an anger Bofur didn’t understand. “I’ll talk to him today. Meet me at the Diner tonight and I’ll tell you how it went. Okay? Are we agreed?”

Frodo stepped closer cautiously. “Is there something going on that I don’t get? The guy threatened Thorin in front of our customers and all…”

“Frodo!”

“Fine! I’ll go to school. I’ll see you later, Uncle Bill. Geez.” The door closed behind Frodo next.

“You threatened him?” Bilbo asked, disbelief etched on his face.

“Admittedly not my brightest moment.”

“Bofur, that was just _stupid_!”

“I know!”

“No, I don’t think you do! You know what, just stop! Stop trying to help!”

“Bilbo—”

Bilbo shook his head. “Get out. I’ll see you tonight, but just…go. Just go.”

Stunned, Bofur hesitated to move at first. Bilbo refused to look at him. He left after a long minute, hands stuffed into his pockets and his thoughts jumbled. He was worried for Bilbo.

There was no telling what Thorin would do.


	6. Chapter 6

After Bofur had left, Bilbo spent the rest of the day salvaging the damage his near-violent attack on Thorin had caused in the café.

It could have been worse, he supposed. It could have become a brawl and that would have forced him to close for the day to appraise the damages done. However, explaining the situation to Thorin would not be easy…

Bilbo decided to worry about that later, deciding it’d be best to be honest with Thorin.

“Sam, would you please watching the shop?”

“Of course, Sir, but…”

“I’ve got something to do. I’ll be back this afternoon.”

He jogged up the stairs to fetch a duffle bag. Checking the contents, he left the house, heading to the back through the kitchen where his car was parked, leaving through the back alley.

Bilbo drummed his fingers against the steering wheel and nibbled his lip all the way to the gym Thorin owned with his sister, Dis. He hoped what he needed to say came out right, otherwise the whole thing could blow up in his face.

The rest of the gang was at the gym. He spied Frodo in the corner talking to Kili and Gimli. He flicked his ear, startling Frodo. “You’re supposed to be at school.”

“We’re _all_ supposed to be at school,” Frodo corrected.

“We were just over there, too,” Kili added. “Pipe line broke so school’s been cancelled.”

Bilbo crossed his arms, eyes narrowed. “I’ll call the school after I talk to Thorin, then.”

“Okay,” Frodo said.

A good sign that he spoke the truth, but Bilbo could never really be sure. He went to the changing room first before going to Thorin. Thorin pounded on the punching bag.

“Well! Who decided to skimp on business hours for once,” Nori joked from the corner.

“I’ll be going back this afternoon. But I think something needs to be cleared up.”

“Damn right it does,” Thorin huffed, backing away from the bag. “What is with that guy?” Thorin asked, scowling. “Why did he threaten me? It sounded like he thought I was beating you up or something. Not that I haven’t before, but you equally did the same to me so…why’d he come at me like I was some child abuser?”

“He doesn’t know about the club and it’s not like I can tell him the truth,” Bilbo reminded him, a pink tinge encroaching his cheeks. “I want to, I know, but—”

“You wouldn’t,” Nori said, embracing Thorin, eyes wide and horror escaping his voice. “You can’t.”

“And I _won’t_ ,” Bilbo assured them. He spied Dis, stepping out of the office, her arms crossed. “There’s only one way I _can_ tell him the truth and I refuse to let him into our world.”

“That’s your own choice,” Thorin said, brow furrowed, shoving Nori off him. “So, what _did_ you tell him?”

Bilbo bit his lip. “You won’t like it.”

“Try me.”

Bilbo glanced around at the others, as though begging them to pull Thorin back before he punched him for real, healing or not. “I told him that you’re my boyfriend and you like to use me as a punching bag.”

Nori roared with laughter, slapping his knee. Thorin stared at Bilbo, mouth open in building horror.

“Oh, Bilbo,” Dis muttered, hiding her eyes behind a hand.

“What was I supposed to say?” he asked. “I can’t exactly go around saying I’m part of a fight club.”

“Still, what were you thinking?” Dis snapped.

“You told him I was some dick you’re dating for some reason which makes no sense to me because there’s no friggin’ way you and I would ever date,” Thorin stated, looking rather dazed and confused. He snorted. “Sure! Let’s forget the fact that I’m not gay.”

“Yes!” Bilbo snapped back. “He wouldn’t stop asking questions. And he came to that conclusion himself. I…may or may not have said he was right.”

“ _Bilbo_!”

“What else was I supposed to do? We aren’t allowed to _talk about it_. Especially not around outsiders…” Bilbo tore at the Velcro wraps strapping his gloves to his wrists. “Like I said, other than giving him the soap, there was no way out.”

“Are you sleeping with him?” Nori asked.

Bilbo blushed. “One night does not count.”

“But Thorin’s your fake-boyfriend,” Nori pointed out, sending him and Thorin puppy eyes. Thorin growled at him. Bilbo rolled his eyes.

“Fake _abusive_ boyfriend. I have no qualms about fake-cheating.”

“Even if it _was_ true, I’m still the injured party,” Thorin sniffed. He frowned. “Actually, I’ve no issues with someone cheating on abusive partners. I’d rather you have said it was Nori or Dwalin, but—”

“Hey!” Nori snapped, punching Thorin’s arm.

“Stop abusing me, Nori,” Thorin joked, smirking.

“No qualms,” Bilbo repeated, grinning, “Guilt free.”

“No qualms?” Dis shook her head. “You’re lying to the man you’re sleeping with—”

“ _Once!_ I only slept with him once.”

“WHO thinks he’s the other and better man.”

“No qualms _besides that_ …I can’t tell him the truth, Dis. Not about my injuries and where I actually get them.”

“That’s true,” Kili said, embracing his mother. Gimli and Frodo watched from the wall beside Dis’ office. “Though, as the nephew of your fake-abusive-boyfriend, I am hurt you fake-cheated on my uncle, Bilbo.”

Nori howled with laughter, leaning against Thorin, who shoved him away again.

Dis shook her head, petting Kili’s hair. “Regardless how this mess came about, it’s here and it’s only getting bigger. So here’s what you’re going to do Bilbo: you’re not going come to fight club until you’re fully healed. Not even to watch the fights.”

“What? But—”

“That’s an order,” Dis growled, releasing Kili. She poked a red-painted manicured finger against his chest. “Until your doctor gives you a clean bill of health, you’re not to be anywhere near the club. At all.

“You tell this guy you broke up with Thorin and you steer clear of the club for a while, I can’t stress that enough. A lot of people won’t be happy. Hell, _I’m_ not happy. You’re one of my best fighters and I’d hate to lose you, Bill, but you don’t want this guy getting wrapped up, so we’ll not wrap him up. Instead, you’re going on sabbatical for a bit. We’ll tell the rest of the gang the truth: you’re banged up bad—not a lie, everyone knows it and lots of idiots lost their money betting against you because of it—and will be back if and when you’re well again. Or when things calm down. Unless you change your mind and decide to let him into the club, you keep your mouth shut.”

Bilbo stared her down despite knowing she’d never relent. He nodded. “Sure thing, Boss. Can I at least continue coming to the gym?”

Dis grinned. “Yes.”

“And you better keep meeting us for drinks,” Nori demanded.

“That might not be possible,” Frodo stated. “What if what’s-his-name—don’t look at me like that, I only met him a couple times.”

“By my own fault,” Bilbo sighed, “I’ve no interest in you meddling.”

“What?” Frodo asked, feigning insulted. “I don’t meddle. Fili meddles.”

“Yeah, if he sniffs this out, it may be harder to keep…uh…”

“Bofur.”

“Bofur out of the club…really? ‘Bofur’?” Nori asked.

“As if any of us can talk,” Gimli scoffed. “Especially you.”

“Family name, kid.”

“So is mine.”

“There’s a lot of those.”

“It could be worse,” Frodo pointed out, “Sam’s full name is Samwise.” Bilbo flicked his ear again. “What? It’s true!”

“Right, I still have to call the school.”

“I already did,” Dis assured him. “A damaged pipe flooded the first floor. School’s out for two days.”

Bilbo smirked. “Fair enough. Guess what, kid?”

“No…you wouldn’t.”

“I would and I am. Extra shifts.”

“But I don’t get paid.”

“Sure you do kid,” Nori laughed. “Just in kitchen scraps.”

#

“I could fight instead,” Frodo suggested back at the café. “I mean, _I_ was supposed to join the club. Not you, so…”

“You’re not eighteen, Dis isn’t going to let you and neither am I. When you’re eighteen, you can join.”

“For the love of…”

“Frodo.”

“Okay, but why not just tell Bofur the truth? It _is_ Bofur, right?”

“It’s Bofur and you know why we can’t tell him the truth. Besides, I’m not sure he’d understand why I joined a fight club.”

Frodo sighed, lifting the bin of dirty dishes in the bin and carried them into the back. Bilbo followed. “This whole thing’s a mess. I don’t see why you can’t just tell him the truth.”

“Rule number one, Frodo my lad,” Bilbo reminded him. “We _don’t_ talk about Fight Club. If we did, we’d have the police after us so fast…”

“I know, but unless he’s a cop, I don’t see a problem.”

“He’s a miner.”

“Then wouldn’t he be okay with it?”

“Not necessarily,” Bilbo sighed. “Look, Dis’ solution is probably the best one I can get.”

“Did you have to say it was Thorin?”

“He’s seen Thorin and we tend to pretend we don’t know anyone from the club. Thorin didn’t _once_ and conclusions were drawn.”

“Normally I’m all for the fight club rules, but in this case, it’s stupid,” Frodo loaded the dishes in the washer before heading upstairs to bed. Bilbo couldn’t agree more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this clears up *some* questions. It's based on this prompt:
> 
> Bombur owns a little diner that Bofur likes to come to each night after work, just to catch up and what not. One night this man comes in, all short and tossed curls and covered in bruises. Soon enough this man becomes a regular coming in every week covered in an array of bruises. So Bofur strikes a conversation with the man, conversations that suddenly he begins to look forward to so much that finds himself falling in love every night they talk. He however thinks Bilbo is being abused and is worried about the increasing array of bruises Bilbo keeps getting, bruises that he was shifty about once they're are brought up in a conversation. Poor Bilbo, who is similarly falling for Bofur, wishes he could set Bofur's mind at ease but the first rule of fight club is “we don't talk about fight club.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Feeling okay?”

Bofur shifted his gaze from the honey glazed chicken he was mutilating into an unrecognizable mess to Bombur. “No. Not particularly.”

“Something to do with Bilbo?”

Bofur sighed, pushing the plate away. “I’m worried about him.”

Bombur took the destroyed chicken away, replacing it with tea. “What’s going on now?”

Bofur bit his lip, wondering if he should tell Bombur. Before he decided to tell him of the day’s events, the door opened.

“Bilbo, what did you do to my brother?!” Bombur demanded, crossing his large arms. “He’s moping!”

Bilbo sat beside Bofur, rubbing his back. “He and my ex had a sort of…altercation this morning at my place. I had to step in before they scared off all my own customers.”

Bofur furrowed his brow, sitting up. “Ex?”

“I said I’d talk to Thorin, didn’t I?” Bilbo reminded him. “And I did.”

“How did he…”

“Well, it was in a public place, so unless he wanted the police showing up, he couldn’t start swinging his fist if that’s what you mean. Wasn’t happy, but,” Bilbo grinned. “I feel much better now that I’ve told him to lose my number.”

Bofur stood, pulling Bilbo around to the kitchen. “If you’re going to shag, there’s a hotel down the street, you know,” Bombur joked.

“Shove off!” Bofur snapped. Bilbo rolled his eyes. “I know, my brother thinks he’s hilarious.”

“Well it’s a step up from what Frodo and his friends find funny.”

“No. I’m sure it’s not. Hearing his jokes from the mouth of a high school student makes it less blood curdling. You broke up with Thorin?”

Bilbo nodded. “I thought you’d be happy.”

“Give me a moment to process it.” Bofur led him out the back and down the stairs to the ground floor. He pushed Bilbo against the wall. “You broke up with Thorin.”

“I did.”

“Did you tell him why?”

“Yes,” Bilbo wrapped his arms around Bofur’s waist. “I told him I was sick of his promises to not beat me given he always did anyway and that I had found someone better. I may or may not have said if I found him anywhere near me or Frodo I’d call the police. Told him to lose my number and that I wanted nothing to do with him,” Bilbo stole the hat off Bofur’s head, pulling it down onto his own. “Processed enough yet?”

Bofur pulled him closer, stealing a kiss. Bilbo hummed into the kiss, hands grasping at the folds of Bofur’s jacket. Bofur moved away from Bilbo’s lips, nipping and sucking at the tender skin beneath his jaw. Bilbo pressed his hips against Bofur’s, mewling.

“I love you, Bilbo,” he whispered against Bilbo’s neck between kisses. “Can’t wait t’see what you look like without bruises. My beautiful Bilbo— _my_ Bilbo.”

A throaty chuckle thrummed against Bofur’s mouth. “Perhaps we should eat first. I’ve not eaten since noon. I’m starving.”

Bofur broke away, grinning ear to ear. “Then we should eat. I suggest the honey glazed chicken with a side of potato-au-gratin and steamed vegetables.”

“At a diner?”

“I do recall mentioning Bombur should work at a five star French restaurant, right?”

“That you did,” Bilbo said, stealing another kiss. “Shall we go in?”

“Yes—wait, give me my hat back.”

Bilbo smirked, tugging the flaps further down onto his head. “No. I think I’m entitled to wear the hat for the night.”

“Then I guess we’ll break Bombur’s heart and go to McDonald’s—”

“Don’t you _dare_ threaten me!” Bilbo snapped, laughing.

Bofur shrugged. “He’ll get over it. His ego could use a little bruising anyway. It’s inflated enough. Besides I think it stands that I’d rather my brother not be sending me lewd glances across the restaurant now that I have you for myself.”

“Well, I’d rather the same not happen with Frodo around, so we can’t go back to the café either. However, there’s a tavern I know which I think you’d like. I know the guy. He’s sort of a family friend if you’d rather go there instead. No relatives to gape at us like a couple of fish or snicker behind our backs. Also, I think the alcohol selection there is better than what you’d get here and definitely at my place.”

“Wait? Bag End sells Alcohol?”

“Nope. Just copious amounts of caffeine,” Bilbo promised. “I do have a private wine cellar, though.”

“Really?”

“That is secret. Frodo knows nothing about it and I’d like to keep it that way. Otherwise, the alcohol will be gone within a fortnight.”

“Well, let’s see. Eat here, have alcohol at your place or go to a tavern and have alcohol and food there…I think there’s a question of being responsible adults or something.”

“Well, that depends on whether we want to scare a taxi driver while drunk,” Bilbo said. “I may have a car, but I share it with Frodo and he had a thing tonight…or so he claims. Hopefully my car is in one piece when I get home. Though scarring him, if possible, sounds fun.”

“I’d rather not scare a taxi driver.”

“Darn.”

“So, we’ll catch a cab to your place after dinner.” Bofur stole his hat back. “Are we agreed, Love?” Bilbo nodded, smiling broadly. Bofur stole a last kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Bof. Now can we go eat?”

“Yes,” Bofur said, leading him back inside. “But I get the feeling that you love food more than me.”

“You’re brother’s a chef and I’m a baker and barista. Must I argue the point that I will always love food more than you?”

“Oi!”

“Your brother will understand. Ask him. I dare you.”

Bofur held the door open for him. “I think I will.”

#

Bilbo led him into the basement where racks of wine were stored. Each shelf was made of polished wood. The basement was cooler here than the floors above and darker. Three half burnt out light bulbs flickered in the room, casting it in an amber glow. Their footsteps echoed off of the cement floor.

Bofur looked around, awed. “You weren’t kidding about the alcohol.”

“My father was a collector,” Bilbo admitted.

“And Thorin never knew about this?”

“Well, I don’t really show this to just _anyone_ ,” Bilbo said, shrugging. He looked through the bottles. “Here we go.” He pulled a bottle out. “Fancy a drink?”

Bofur leaned against the wall, trying to imagine Bilbo without bruises, without injuries, and preferably naked. Yeah. It was an image he could get used to. “Love to.”

Bilbo grinned, leading Bofur back up to the kitchen. There were two different counters: one that lined the walls and another built into the floor in the center of the room to act and possibly acted as a table as well. Both counters were made of granite and well kept. Stainless steel pots and pans hung from the ceiling and two knife blocks were pushed against the walls with two paper towels beside them on stands. Two stainless steel sinks housed dish soap and sponges. Cherry wood cabinets probably held whatever else Bilbo used. In addition to the cookware, there was a phone, an iPod jack, and a trash can by the door

Bilbo set the bottle down and selected wine glasses on the counter/table. “So…now what?” Bofur asked.

He glanced up at him. “What do you mean?”

“Even if you finally broke up with him, I’m worried. Thorin could come here when—” Bilbo kissed him, handing him a glass. “You’re not worried?”

“A little bit,” Bilbo admitted, leaning against the table. “But like I said, I don’t really want to think about Thorin right now. Let alone how he’ll retaliate. Bofur, we’ll worry about it later. Okay? Can we just…enjoy our wine? Maybe go upstairs insanely drunk and have sex?”

Bofur grinned, pinning Bilbo against the counter. “I like that plan. Sadly, not the getting _very_ drunk part. I’ve got to get to work in the morning.” Bilbo set his glass down, wrapping his arms around Bofur’s neck and pressing another kiss to his mouth.

“Then we’ll get riotously drunk when you’ve got a day off.”

Bofur laughed. “I like that plan,” he said, picking up his wine glass again, taking a drink. “I feel silly drinking wine out of a glass…maybe I should extend my pinky.” He did so, pinky pointed out. Bilbo snorted.

“You look fine. It’d be sillier with the hat.”

“Aye, it would. Now give it back.”

Bilbo scooted away, grinning. He tugged the hat further down his head and shook his head. “I think I’ll keep it. I see why you like it so much now. It’s very comfy.” Bofur set his glass down.

“That’s _why_ I like it. Bilbo—” He took a step forward and Bilbo backed away, still smiling. “I’m not going to chase you around a kitchen to get my hat back.”

“I thought you liked having fun.”

“I _do_ ,” Bofur sighed. “Bilbo…”

He dashed around the other side of the table. Bofur swore, toppling over his glass to set it down before grabbing Bilbo around the waist and stealing his hat back.

“Ugh, you’re no fun!”

“I’m plenty of fun,” Bofur countered, fixing his hat back on his head. “But I don’t want you hurting yourself more than you already are.” He kissed Bilbo’s cheek, then his neck, pulling him closer to his chest. “I love you and I _want_ to goof off with you sometime, but can we not rough house just yet, Love?”

Bilbo turned his head. “You’re a sap.”

“I enjoy being a sap sometimes,” Bofur argued, grinning and wiggling his eyebrows, Bilbo laughed.

“Sap.”

“I’m your sap…who should probably wipe up the wine.” He released Bilbo and grabbed some paper towels while Bilbo raced to get a sponge.

“Bofur, it’s fine, I can—”

“It’s just wine, Bilbo. I can get it—”

“You shouldn’t have to clean in my house!” Bilbo snapped. Bofur snorted. “What?”

“To think our first fight would be about who cleans wine off the floor.” Bilbo blinked and began laughing. “We’ll just do it together. Ridiculous as that sounds.”

“Been in more ridiculous situations that _that,_ ” Bilbo said. Bofur threw away the paper towels and collected more while Bilbo wiped the access wine off the tabletop.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly smut. If it's not your cup'o'tea, skip to the hashtag.

They finished the bottle. Bofur’s head buzzed, but it wasn’t _so_ bad he couldn’t think straight. He’d had more fun nights that left him out of the loop. This, however, would be bearable.

Bilbo led him up the stairs, their feet pounding against the floor, and laughing.

At the top of the stairs, he caught Bilbo around the waist and kissed his neck.

“Love you,” he murmured. “Want you always, Bo.”

Bilbo turned his head and kissed him before pulling away and pulling him into the bedroom.

He pushed Bofur down onto the bed, so his head rested on the pillow, and straddled him, kissing his lips, nipping gently with his teeth, fingers unbuttoning Bofur’s shirt and kissing his way down his chest.

“Bilbo…”

“Hmm?”

Bofur groaned, pants feeling tighter. A soft, familiar heat builds within him as Bilbo removes his belt and unzips his jeans. He sat up, lifting his hips for his lover— _his **lover**_ —to remove them.

Bilbo kissed the sole of his foot and his toes, massaging it. Bofur snorted.

“What?”

“Tickles a bit. I didn’t think you’d have a foot fetish, Love.”

“Just for _your_ feet,” Bilbo said, pressing his thumbs a little harder against the arch of Bofur’s foot. He imagined Bilbo was smiling. “Better?”

“Hmm…” Bofur said.

He couldn’t say that it didn’t feel good. But a foot massage as foreplay? That was new. Not complaining, of course, but still new to him.

Bilbo kissed his ankle as his fingers moved down to his heel, pressing his fingers a bit harder into the tough skin. His foot felt warm and the muscles loose, relaxed. Bilbo moved to the other foot and giving it equal attention as what he gave the other.

Bofur focused on breathing, one hand tucked behind his head, the other on his stomach.

Bilbo stood and stripped out of his clothes before straddling Bofur’s waist. Bofur’s hands found Bilbo’s hips as he leaned down, kissing Bofur.

Bofur rolled them over, pressing his hips against Bilbo’s before standing on his knees.

His fingers curled under the waistband of Bilbo’s boxers and pulled them off, kissing at the joint where Bilbo’s hips meet his leg.

Bofur kissed Bilbo’s inner thigh, avoiding the bruise on the outer side of it, nibbling at the soft skin there. Bilbo hummed.

“I thought you wanted me bruise free,” Bilbo said, untouched leg shifting beside Bofur.

“Well, I’d like to argue that love bites are different,” Bofur said, kissing the mark. “A _lot_ different.”

He kissed along the hardening shaft beside his head until he came to the tip, pressing his tongue against the slit and slid the member into his mouth.

Bilbo gasped, bucking his hips, forcing his cock deeper into Bofur’s mouth. Bofur pinned Bilbo’s hips to the bed and rubbed circles into the flesh. Bilbo whined, still trying to fuck his mouth.

Bilbo’s muscles tensed beneath Bofur’s hands, and his cock pulsed within his mouth.

Bofur swallowed the cum, throat and mouth tightening around Bilbo shuddering beneath him from overstimulation. He released the now flaccid cock, kissing his way up Bilbo’s chest at the skin he could reach.

He slid his hand under Bilbo’s neck, threading his hand through golden curls and met Bilbo’s lips with an open mouthed kiss, slipping his tongue inside. Bilbo moaned, his hands digging crescent moons into Bofur’s skin and curling his tongue around Bofur’s.

Breaking apart for air, Bilbo nibbled on Bofur’s lower lip.

“Please, sweetheart,” he whispered, breath warm and tickling Bofur’s mouth. “Need you. Need more of you, Bof.”

Bofur kissed him again before grabbing a bottle of lube and a condom packet from Bilbo’s bedside table.

Bilbo’s hands dropped to rest on either side of his head as Bofur ripped the packet open, stretching the condom over his length before warming the cool liquid between his fingers, carefully pressing one into Bilbo. He crooked the finger up, kissing the skin beside Bilbo’s navel, feeling the muscles tense and relax under his lips before pressing in a second finger.

“Beautiful. My beautiful Bilbo,” he whispered, spreading his fingers apart and slowly twisting his wrist around. He shifted to his knees and added a third finger, watching Bilbo’s expression change from discomfort to pleasure with each movement his fingers made.

He crooked his fingers again and Bilbo arched off the bed, gasping.

Bofur licked his lips, rubbing his finger pads against that spot. Bilbo keened, eyes closed and panting. His cock twitched in effort to reawaken.

He pulled his fingers out and lathered more lube onto his hand and spread it over his cock.

Bilbo spread his legs a little further and drew them up, bent at the knees.

Bofur pressed the head of his cock against Bilbo’s entrance and pushed inside, rolling his hips and inching his way further inside until he was fully seated within him. Bofur thrust in and out slowly, watching Bilbo.

Bilbo’s hands clawed at the sheets beneath him, one curled around the pillow. Eyes closed and mouth gaping, panting. His cock was pushing against Bofur’s stomach, regaining the hardness it lost before. He wrapped his legs around Bofur’s waist, locked at the ankles.

“Faster, Bof. _Harder_.”

“You sure?”

Bilbo nodded, opening his eyes just a touch and biting his lower lip.

Bofur groaned, bowing his head to rest on Bilbo’s chest. He pushed himself up by his arms, shifting his hips slightly and thrust deep into his lover at a more chopped pace than before.

Bilbo’s back arched and his hands wrung the sheets. “ _Yes,_ ” Bilbo hissed, closing his eyes again. “ _There…Yes…Oh…fuck…Bofur…Bof…”_

He tightened around Bofur’s cock and gasped. Bofur nearly collapsed on top of him, pressing his forehead against Bilbo’s.

He reached between them, closing his hand around Bilbo’s cock and stroked him back to full hardness. His thumb circled around the slit.

“ _Bof…cuming…soon_.”

“ _Good_ ,” Bofur said, kissing him hard and passionate. “ _Good_.”

He slid his hand back to head. Bilbo choked back a scream, his seed covering Bofur’s hand and his muscles contracting around Bofur.

Bofur halted, climax ripping through him. He panted, arms shaking.

Their breath mingled, gasping.

Bofur pulled out and Bilbo shuddered beneath him.

“Washroom?” he asked, forcing himself to sit up.

Bilbo rolled onto his back and pointed to one of the two doors, arm shaking. Bofur entered and disposed of the condom before searching for a towel. He found then in the cabinet under the sink. He drenched a hand towel and returning to Bilbo, wiping sweat and cum off him before disposing of the cloth and lying beside him. He pulled Bilbo into his arms and Bilbo hummed, snuggling into Bofur’s chest.

“Goodnight, Love,” Bofur whispered. Bilbo did not reply, already asleep.

#

The alarm went off. Bofur groaned, glaring at the LED clock, reading Five-fucking-thirty.

He closed his eyes, thanking his lucky stars he didn’t have to be in at work until the day shift at nine o’clock. His head ached, but as he thought, he’d had worse hangover. This one was rather tame.

Bofur sat up.

“No,” Bilbo groaned, grabbing his hand. “Turn it off and stay a little longer.”

Bofur turned the alarm off and kissed Bilbo above his furrowed eyebrow.

“Sorry, Love. I have to go to work.”

“Call in sick, then.”

Bofur chuckled. “If only I could. Mind if I use the shower here?”

“Go ahead. Fresh towels are under the sink.”

Bofur bit back the urge to say “I know,” opting to just head into the shower and get ready for work. He borrowed the shampoo and conditioner for his hair.

Bilbo was more awake when he returned, stretching in bed. Bofur leaned over him, stealing a kiss.

“I love you.”

“Ditto,” Bilbo replied, “You better go before I tie you down to the bed and fuck you.”

“Some other time,” Bofur said. “But I will _definitely_ look forward to that day.”

He straightened and went to dress, fully aware that Bilbo was watching.

Probably smirking, eyes attentive and hungry…

His lip between his teeth…

Bofur beat down his arousal. He turned to kiss Bilbo again, trying to ignore how his heart raced and the way his brain urged him to strip down and make love again to Bilbo.

 _My Bilbo,_ he thought. _Mine._

“I got to go.”

“Then why aren’t you?” Bilbo teased.

“Maybe because you are gorgeous and seductive, Bilbo Baggins, and I can’t imagine a bloke being able to resist you easily. Me least of all,” he growled playfully, getting a giggle out of Bilbo.

“Shit, you need to go before you’re late. Or call in sick. That’s still an option.”

“Sadly it isn’t. Not if I want to take you out to dinner and a movie next weekend.” Bofur pecked his lips again and grabbed his hat. He bowed, making Bilbo laugh. “Until we meet again, my lord.”

“Sap!”

“I’m _your_ sap. And _never_ forget it.” He put the hat on his head. “Have a good day, Love.”

“You too,” Bilbo called. Bofur descended the steps, almost running into Frodo. The boy stared at him, blinking. Then he smirked.

“Oi, enough of that!”

“Fine, fine,” Frodo said, holding his hands up. “See you later—I like you better than Thorin, anyway.” Frodo yawned, stretched, and entered the kitchen. Bofur hummed and left without another word, flagging down a taxi.

 _What’s gotten into the little bugger?_ He thought. He didn’t think Frodo liked him at all. He leaned back in his seat, deciding to worry about it later.

And get something for his hangover.


	9. Chapter 9

Beorn’s Tavern was conveniently located on campus.

Well, convenient for Bilbo, Bofur decided.

Not really for _him_.

But it was fine.

Bofur tugged his hat further down his head to cover his ears when the first drops of rain began to fall and stepped out of the cab.

Bilbo stood under the awning and ran over to him before the rain really started coming down, sliding into the cab. Bofur slid inside and closed the door.

“Thanks for picking me up,” Bilbo said, shaking rainwater out of his hair.

“Not a problem at all. How’s Frodo?”

“He’s good. He decided to spend the night at a friend’s. Said friend’s uncle will keep the boys in line,” Bilbo said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s been a rather rough day…”

“Sorry to hear that,” Bofur said, touching his hand.

The driver seemed to be the sort who might get violent around them and Bofur didn’t want to encourage any violence between them.

“You’re…injuries are healing well,” Bofur said, indicating Bilbo’s face.

And he was. The bruises on his cheek and forehead were steadily turning brownish-yellow and the cuts were thin scars now.

Bilbo grinned, eyes sparkling, and Bofur’s breath hitched.

“Thanks,” he said, leaning back in his seat. He covered his mouth and yawned. “I apologize. It’s probably been a longer day than I thought.”

“Would you rather have a night in?”

“Nah,” Bilbo said, waving him off. “I could use a drink or two.”

The driver looked in the back, glaring through the mirror.

Bofur glared back.

“Got a problem?” he challenged.

The driver shifted his gaze back to the street, turning the corner.

“Everything all right?” Bilbo whispered.

“Not sure this guy’s…friendly, if you catch my drift.”

“Ah,” Bilbo grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

Bofur rolled his eyes. “ _Hilarious_.”

“What do you mean? I’m _always_ funny,” Bilbo said, grinning. “It’s our night, Bofur, so let’s enjoy it, make some noise…you know, axes of the dwarves sort of thing.”

The cab jolted a bit.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes, sir,” the driver said curtly.

Bofur furrowed his brow. _What just happened?_

He received no answer. The driver gave them a discount and sped off as soon as he was able to. Bilbo looped his arm in Bofur’s, leading him inside the restaurant.

“Little Bunny!” a loud voice boomed.

Bilbo cringed beside Bofur and sighed. “Hello, Beorn,” he said, greeting…

 _A large giant of a man with giant muscles and giant hands and giant everything_!

Bofur wasn’t sure if he should feel intimidated or not.

Apart from Bilbo’s distaste at being addressed as “little bunny” by the large man, he and Beorn were quiet amiable with each other. They received a table soon and beer was ordered.

“You know him?”

“Yes, we’re in a similar sphere of friends,” Bilbo admitted. “The ‘little bunny’ thing is an inside joke I _wish_ would go away.” He sighed. “But Beorn refuses to address me as anything _else_ and I’ve given up trying to make him call me by my name.”

“Sorry to hear that, love,” Bofur said, wrapping his arm around Bilbo’s shoulders and kissing him.

Bilbo smiled against his lips. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”

“Not very.”

Bilbo shrugged, kissing him again.

“I recommend the fish and sticks.”

“Fish and sticks,” Bofur said. “Got it. One order of bad breath comin’ up.”

Bilbo laughed.

“What? Should I get tartar sauce too?”

“Actually you should. And coleslaw.”

“Eew….” Bofur wrinkled his nose. Bilbo laughed kissing the tip of it.

“Well, well, well.” A blond and a redhead slid in the seats across from them. “’Ello Bilbo, been a while.”

“Nori, Fili, what are you two doing here?”

“Having a pint with the buddies,” the redhead said. “Dwalin’s talking to Beorn right now and we’re still waiting for Gloin. Who’s this? New boyfriend?”

“Nori, this is Bofur.”

“ _This_ is Bofur?” Fili asked, leaning on the table. “Does he know about Thorin?”

Bofur glared at Fili. “What—”

“Fili, what are you—”

“Must have since he stole Bilbo from him,” Nori said, stretching. “Hopefully it won’t be the only—”

“You shut the fuck right now,” Bilbo snapped, throwing a sugar packet at Nori. “And _go away_.” He turned to Bofur. “I am _so_ sorry about this. They’re usually much nicer. _Right_ , guys?”

“Oi, don’t blame us!” Nori said.

“We all worry about yeh, Bilbo.”

“Yeah,” a balding brunet covered in tattoos announced carrying three pints. “You’re our _little bunny_.”

“ _Dwalin_!” Bilbo hissed, blushing. He turned to Bofur. “Maybe we should just go—”

“Are you implying that I might be like his ex?”

“Well, yeh know, one can never be too careful,” Dwalin announced, glaring.

Bofur refused to be cowed by the bastards who interrupted them. He would not be cowed. No. Not at all. He was a miner. He dealt with bigger and nastier and tougher.

Even if they were perhaps the most intimidating bunch he had ever seen…

 _How does Bilbo even_ know _them?!_

“Bilbo, who are they?” he asked, deciding to cut to the chase.

Bilbo sighed. “High school was…interesting for me. I met Nori and Dwalin _then_. Fili is actually another friend’s nephew, but he hangs around us because, well…”

“Why not hang out around such awesome uncles?”

“Let me guess, taught you to spit and tie your own shoelaces.”

“Damn straight, old man,” Fili said, smirking at him and leaning back in his seat.

Bilbo groaned, hiding his face in his hands.

Bofur glared at the youth, crossing his arms and Fili glared back.

“Look, Bofur,” Dwalin said. “Yeh seem like a nice guy, but just so you know, we won’t stand for a repeat: one _scratch_ on Bilbo and we’ll be coming for yeh.”

Bofur snarled, ready to jump up and fight the trio of necessary. Bilbo grabbed his arm.

“You all need to leave,” he snarled, “Now.”

Bofur glanced at him and nearly joined them in their retreat. Bilbo’s eyes were dark, flashing with promise of swift retribution and much, _much_ pain.

“Bye Bilbo,” Fili called, waving and grinning as he followed Nori and Dwalin to the other side of the bar. Bilbo sighed heavily when they had gone and the ire fled away to fatigue, pinching the bridge of his nose and leaning against the table.

“I am sorry about them. They mean well, but they didn’t have any right to go that far.”

Bofur rubbed his back. “I won’t say they didn’t grate me, since they did, and I won’t say I’m not grateful to you because I am. But they mean well, I can gather that much.”

“There is meaning well and there is spouting useless, empty threats. They won’t be fulfilling that promise, Bofur,” Bilbo looked up, looking quite haggard. “You are my savior. You’ve been nothing but good to me so far and I don’t see that ending any time soon, Darling.”

“Well, they care for you, at least.”

“They do,” he agreed, smiling. “And I wish I listened to them when they suspected something was off about Thorin. I should have listened but…”

Bofur shrugged. “You were in love,” he said, the words tasted like bile. “We’re a bit stupid when we are.” Bilbo hummed.

“I suppose so,” he agreed. “But I wish I never met him.”

Bilbo leaned against Bofur.

“But I am glad I met you. I’m glad I fell in love with you and I’m very glad you fell in love with me,” he said. Bilbo pressed a kiss on Bofur’s cheek above his beard.

Bofur couldn’t stop grinning after that. They both ordered fish and chips and more beer.

Once in a while, one of Bilbo’s friends would circle around, but a well placed glower sent them running back. The situation could be weirder, Bofur decided. After all…

It could have been _his_ high school chums.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, those boys...annoying little brothers/nephews. I tell you! 
> 
> I'll be out of town next week so I won't have any new chapters until the week after. I'm off to Wyoming for spring break with some friends. (I know, why Wyoming...Why not somewhere nice and sunny and warm? It's a mission trip. That's why.)


	10. Chapter 10

Bilbo and Bofur arranged to have a picnic on the next Saturday if the weather held. And when the day arrived, other than a few clouds in the morning, the day was bright and dry.

Bofur stopped at a toy store to buy a kite. He wasn’t sure if it was _windy_ enough, but it’d not hurt to try. After that, he continued on his way to Bag End.

Bilbo met Bofur outside the shop, a portable cooler slung over his shoulder. He wore black sandals, light brown cargo shorts, a red v-neck t-shirt, and his usual jacket. A pair of sunglasses hung in the collar of his shirt. A light breeze ruffled his hair, playing with the curls.

He turned to Bofur and smiled.

“Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Bofur said, taking Bilbo’s hand in his. “Bit warm for the jacket, isn’t it?”

Bilbo hummed with an air of annoyance.

“The weather report said it might rain later…hopefully _not_ , but better to be prepared than have it just start pouring and getting soaked.”

“Ah, well,” Bofur grinned. “That’s why I have my hat, now is it?”

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “I might take it from you. Again.”

Bofur laughed, pulling him into a kiss. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Who said anything about trying?” Bilbo asked, swiping the hat from Bofur’s head and putting it on his own. “It’s an easy steal.”

“Actually, I just let you,” Bofur said.

“Sure, you do,” Bilbo replied, tugging the flaps down. He took it off. “Too warm for it anyway.”

“It is not!”

“You wear it all the time.” Bilbo countered, flagging a taxi. “How would you know?” Bofur shrugged sliding in after Bilbo.

“Where to, Gents?”

“Brandywine Park,” Bilbo said. “Thanks.”

The ride, if anything, was uneventful. Bilbo expressed pride in Frodo getting B’s and above in his classes, and that, while still a snarky brat, he was definitely growing up and his attitude changing though it was slow going. Working at Bag End was certainly helping. And Sam was promoted to assistant manager. Though the promotion was good, Sam worried about balancing everything.

(“Which is normal,” Bilbo said. “He’s in college, with a girlfriend, and works. He’s doing his best and I told him the promotion won’t interfere with any of that. He earned it anyway.”)

And there certainly wasn’t much for Bofur to report on his end, save for a mine inspection, but otherwise…

Bilbo paid the driver and thanked him on arrival to the park.

They found a patch of grass under the shade of a tree and set up the picnic there, holding the thin paper down with rocks until settled. Bilbo unpacked the cooler:

Two plastic plates, some silverware, plastic cups, napkins, tubberware filled with pasta salad, a loaf of pita bread, a jug of fruit juice, and three sandwiches cut in halves made of chicken, turkey, and roast beef.

“I was under the impression it’d be a picnic, not a feast,” Bofur joked, loading his plate with pasta salad, one half of the chicken sandwich, and a section of the pita bread.

Bilbo handed him a glass of juice.

“I wasn’t sure what to pack,” he admitted. “Honestly, I probably would have brought more if the cooler could fit it…”

“This is plenty, Love,” Bofur said. “And I’ll take any leftovers to work tomorrow.”

Bilbo smiled at him behind his glass.

“After we eat, would you like to fly a kite if the wind picks up?” he asked.

Bilbo set down his cup. “You have one?”

“I can’t guarantee it’ll be a good one,” Bofur admitted. “But I stopped by the store on the way here…” Bilbo chewed contemplatively.

“I don’t see why not,” he decided. “Sure. After lunch. If the wind _doesn’t_ , though, we could just walk around.”

Bofur nodded taking a bite of his sandwich, humming his appreciation for good food.

 _Between Bombur and Bilbo, I might get fat…_ he thought, snickering.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said, tearing another chunk of pita bread free from the loaf. “I get good food too often. Between you and Bombur, I’ll have to invest in going to a gym.”

Bilbo grinned. “Yes, it’s a grand master plan Bombur and I cooked up to make you a lazy sod. Going to the gym is the only way to combat it.”

“Oi! That’s not very nice!”

“Who said anything about being nice?” Bilbo asked, stabbing his fork into the salad. “Your brother and I work hard at making life a little more difficult for you.”

“So cruel!”

Bilbo laughed, setting his fork down.

“I love you,” he said, kissing Bofur’s cheek above his stubble. “You are cute and funny and completely wonderful. Funny hat and all.”

“I’m so glad we agree,” Bofur joked, pulling him into another kiss. “You’re not bad yourself, Mister Baggins.” Bilbo smiled against his lips.

“Oi! Baggins!” Bilbo pulled away, turning to the men who called at him. “Where the bloody hell you been?” One of them shouted.

“Ain’t that a _man_ beside him?”

Bofur gripped Bilbo’s arm. “Ignore them. I don’t know how you know them, but ignore them.”

“Right! Walk away, ya fag!”

“Tom,” one of them hissed. “Stop! Don’t rile them.”

“Why not?” Tom shouted. “He’s a _fag_! You’re really gonna let all the other times we saw him _fly_ now?!”

Bilbo shook beside him. Bofur rubbed his back.

“We’ll go. We don’t have to—”

Bilbo stood.

“What are you doing?”

He ran at them.

“Bilbo!”

The one called Tom, Bofur presumed, raised a fist and brought it down.

Bilbo ducked, slamming his fist into Tom’s gut.

Tom backed away, clutching his gut. Bilbo didn’t give him a change to regain his bearing, ramming his fist into his jaw and ramming his knee into Tom’s ribs. He slammed his fists down on Tom’s head and the larger man fell to the ground, groaning.

“We’re sorry, Bilbo,” the other said. “Tom shouldn’t have…well…”

“No. He shouldn’t have,” Bilbo hissed. “Dis will hear about this, so you know.”

Bofur watched the exchange with wide eyes. His head hurt.

 _Where did he learn to fight like that?_ He thought. _Who is Dis? How does he know_ these guys _?_

The unnamed man helped Tom up and they left. Tom shot glares at Bilbo, but they were more the glares of one who had his tail between his legs.

“Bilbo?”

Bilbo turned to him, blinking.

“Right…sorry about that, I probably should have listened.” He massaged the back of his neck. “It’s just that I’ve dealt with Tom too many times to let that behavior fly. He knows I can kick his ass, so I don’t understand why he still _goads me_ so much. Or why I let him.”

“I didn’t know you could fight like that!”

“What do you…I told you I fought Thorin.”

“But he always beat the shit out of you!”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I _let_ him. What? You thought I was just _bad_ at fighting?” Bilbo asked, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. “I’m not weak, Bofur.”

Bilbo approached him and wrapped his arms around his neck.

“I am good at it and I know how to defend myself. That doesn’t mean I’m unbeatable. The relationship I had with Thorin, if anything, proves that.”

Bofur frowned. “Are you all right, though?”

“Yes. I’m fine.”

“You’re not going to go into a panic attack or anything?”

Bilbo shook his head, kissing him. “I’m fine, sweetheart. Thank you for asking. Do you still want to fly a kite? The wind’s picked up a bit.”

“Sure,” Bofur said. Bilbo released him and went to get the kite and Bofur watched him get it, wondering why Bilbo continued to be such an enigma to him.

He knew how to fight, but his last relationship was abusive.

Bilbo also didn’t seem suffer from any form of PTSD nor did he talk about his time with Thorin unless it was brought up at some point.

And there was never any hint of hate or fear or…well, _any_ negativity behind the dark words spoken about Thorin.

Bofur hated feeling suspicious of Bilbo, but something didn’t add up. He guessed he knew that for a while now, but ignored it because…because…He didn’t really know why. He was happy with Bilbo, that much was certain. Bofur loved him, so feeling _this_ …sort of _wrongness_ surrounding their relationship hurt.

Bilbo returned with the kite already put together. “Ready?”

Bofur forced a grin, battling his suspicions down. “Yes.”


	11. Chapter 11

It’s not often anyone gets called into the main office. Rarer still for a mine overseer like Bofur. So when he was asked to come to the office, his first instinct was panic. His boss met him at the door and assured him that he had nothing to worry about, and Bofur grinned at this though far from relieved. He wouldn’t be relieved until he knew exactly what was going on.

He was led to a waiting room and invited to sit down for a bit. Bofur did so, feeling a tad faint. He busied himself thumbing through magazines, jolted from a text from Bombur, another from Bilbo.

“Mr. Broadbeam, come in,” a tall man said. He stood, turning his phone off, and entered the room. “Feeling all right.”

“Aye,” he replied. “As all right as can be.”

He chuckled. “You’ve nothing to worry about. Please, sit down. No need for formality…where are my manners! Dain Ironfoot,” he held his hand out to Bofur, who shook it. He was glad to sit. Bofur felt a little queasier than he probably should. Dain sat across from him rather than behind his desk.

Dain Ironfoot _owned_ Eredluin Mining, the company Bofur worked for.

“I, er, didn’t know I was meeting someone so high up in the company, sir,” he said.

“Please, Dain is fine. And don’t be surprised you were called in. You’re a fine foreman, Bofur—can I call you Bofur?”

“Of course.”

“And after much review, I decided you might be the best one to oversee a new mine site for Eredluin in Ireland. It’s already open and fully operational, but it is new and the inspection didn’t come back as favorable as the others. So I figured I’d send you down there for a few weeks to whip it into shape. It won’t be permanent,” he assured Bofur when he noticed his face fall. “I’m aware that you have a life here, Bofur, and I have no intention of uprooting you from it. It’s just for a month or two.”

Bofur nodded. “Oh…so…essentially I’m getting promoted?”

“Aye, raise and all. You’re still a foreman, but more an executive foreman. You earned it, Bofur.”

Bofur’s grin felt more real after that and his bubbling nausea dissipated. “Thank you, S—Dain,” he said.

“Of course!” he reached for his desk and handed Bofur package. “The trip is already paid for and the flight is in two days. In here are the tickets, your hotel information, and a copy of the inspector’s review.” Bofur took it and thanked him again. Dain walked him out and with one last handshake bade him goodbye.

Bofur turned his phone back on and called Bilbo.

“ _Hello?_ ”

“Bilbo, Love, guess what…”

#

“You didn’t have to threaten me to come, Bombur!” Bofur snapped when he stepped into the diner. Bilbo coughed behind him and Bofur pulled him into one armed a hug. “And you shouldn’t laugh!”

“I know,” he said, kissing Bofur’s cheek. “I’m sorry. But it wasn’t much of a threat, Bof.”

“He threatened to tell you stories about when we were kids. That’s threat enough. Trust me.”

“I want to know, though.”

“No you don’t,” Bofur and Bombur chorused. One with finality, the other with humor.” Bilbo shrugged.

“I think that’s for me to decide.”

“Just trust me,” Bofur said. “You don’t want to know what I used to get myself into. You think _your_ friends are bad? You haven’t seen _anything_ yet.”

Bilbo laughed again and they sat down. Bofur returned, setting large burgers in front of them. “Cake’s still in the oven.”

“You don’t need to bake a cake for every occasion,” Bofur snapped at him.

“Actually…”

“Bilbo, _don’t_ side with him.”

“Oh c’mon!” he sighed. “Cake is wonderful.”

“The cake is a lie. And it reinforces our previous argument that you and Bombur have teamed up to make me an overweight bum.”

“What’s this about turning you into me?” Bombur asked.

Bilbo snickered and Bofur explained.

Bombur roared, setting down their drinks and returning to the back.

Bofur scowled, slouching in his seat. Bilbo reached over and took his hand. “I love you. And so does your brother. We’re just messing with you.”

“I know,” Bofur said, straightening. He kissed Bilbo’s hand. “And you are wonderful, you know that?” Bilbo’s cheeks tinted a bit.

“We should eat.”

“We should.”

“Can I have my hand back?”

“If you _must_ ,” Bofur sighed dramatically, letting Bilbo’s hand go. “I might get lonely without it, though.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes, picking up the sandwich. “Don’t be so overdramatic, Sweetheart. Eat your dinner.” Bofur snorted. “What?”

“We’ve become domestic.”

“And this is funny?” Bilbo asked, a smile creeping upon his lips.

“In a way,” Bofur said. Bilbo took a bite. “In that you’re mothering me.” Bilbo coughed and Bofur’s grin died. “Bilbo.”

He managed to swallow. “Ouch,” he said, laughing. “That was _not_ mothering, Bofur.” He said, picking up his glass and taking a few gulps of water. He set it back down. “You will _know_ when I’m mothering you. Trust me.”

“In the meantime I will try not to kill you. Duly noted.” Bilbo picked up a chip and threw it at him. It landed in on top of the bun. “Thanks.”

“Will you just eat?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Bofur, eat your food. And stop trying to make me laugh when I’m eating.”

“Fine. But only because I’m hungry.” He took a giant bite out of his burger to accent his point. The rest of the meal passed in silence, save for the occasional stealing of the other’s chips. Or throwing said chips at each other.

Before they had finished, Bombur returned, carrying a small round vanilla cake. _Congratulations Bofur_ was etched on the top in flowing script. “Here’s the cake, Children, but don’t throw this unless you intend to clean the mess,” he warned them.

Bofur swallowed. “I don’t think we can finish this as is, Bombur.”

“Bilbo can do what he wants with the rest of it,” Bombur said, heading back into the kitchen. Bofur and Bilbo exchanged looks.

“Could we have a box for it then?”

#

“How long will you be away?” Bilbo asked, locking Bag End’s door after they entered the empty shop.

“A month at most,” Bofur said, entering the kitchen to put the cake away. Bilbo followed him, leaning against the doorway. “I’ll be back before you know it and I’ll call when I can.” He turned around and approached Bilbo, resting his hands on the other’s hips. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’ll miss you. That’s all,” Bilbo said. Bofur leaned down and kissed him.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. Promise.”

“I know, but I’ll still miss you,” Bilbo said, wrapping his arms around Bofur’s neck. “I see you nearly every day now. It’ll be empty without you.”

Bofur pressed his forehead to Bilbo’s. “It’s still a couple days from now. So what do you want to do in the meantime?”

Bilbo pulled him into another kiss, nipping his bottom lip. His hand gripped Bofur’s wrist and pulled him up the stairs and to his room. “If I’m going to have a month without you,” he began, “then I want to be in your arms tonight.”

Bofur grinned. “Aye. I can do that,” he said. Bilbo kissed him.

“Let me prepare a bit,” he whispered before heading into the bathroom.

Bofur collapsed on the bed, hands behind his head as he heard the shower run. He closed his eyes, focused on breathing…he dared not open them again until a pair of lips pressed to his. He opened his eyes. Bilbo stood above him, the ends of his hair still wet and his skin warm to touch despite the growing goosebumps along his arms.

“Did I wake you?”

“No. Your timing was perfect,” Bofur said, pushing Bilbo onto his back. Bilbo scooted back till his head rested on pillows. Bofur crawled on top of him and kissed him. Bilbo’s hands pulled Bofur’s shirt up and off. The hat came with it and together both articles were tossed to the floor. Bilbo ran his hands over Bofur’s shoulders and arms. Bofur moved to kiss Bilbo’s neck, breath barely tickling his ear.

Bilbo shivered beneath him dug his nails into Bofur’s flesh, turning his head to give Bofur more of his neck, hands trailing down Bofur’s torso. Bofur moved down to kiss his clavicle, chest, abdomen…Bofur held Bilbo’s cock in his hand, and stroked it lazily. Bilbo moaned his name softly. Bofur crawled back up, still stroking Bilbo to full hardness and kissed him.

Each kiss was soft and languid. Bilbo arched into Bofur, and bit his lip. He kissed the wound gently before pushing the hand off and getting turning over. Bilbo reached for the drawer in the bedside table. He pulled out a bottle and pressed it into Bofur’s hand. He opened the bottle and coated the liquid over his hand before inserting a finger into Bilbo’s ass. Bilbo moaned, rocking his hips.

Bofur groaned. “You’ll be the death of me.” Bilbo chuckled. “Make me regret it then,” he said.

 _Fuck_ , Bofur thought, pushing in a second finger and stretching the muscle open. “Do you want me to make you regret it?” Bofur asked. “I can make you so sore tonight you won’t be walking right for a week. Tomorrow you’ll be so stiff you’ll feel it when you sit. How’s that sound?”

“Perfect,” Bilbo whispered.

“Cheeky,” Bofur mumbled, inserting another finger and kissed Bilbo’s shoulder. Bilbo arched his back, pushing against the appendages. Bofur’s groin thrummed, heat teasing him beneath his jeans and his want grew.

“Bofur, please,” Bilbo whispered. “I need you. I need to feel you, darling.”

Bofur shivered and obliged pulling his hand out. “Condoms?”

“Same drawer. Can’t move.”

“Lazy cat,” Bofur teased, finding a condom. He unzipped his jeans and freed his cock.

“I happen to not like cats,” Bilbo said, “I’m a bit allergic to them.”

“Funny. You seem to like acting like one,” Bofur said, ripping it open and covering his cock with it. He squeezed more lube into his hand and coated his cock liberally before gripping Bilbo’s hips. “This fine?”

Bilbo shifted onto his back. “I want to look at you,” he said, spreading his legs. Bofur gripped his hips again and pulled Bilbo closer. Bilbo pulled his legs to his knees. Bofur licked his lips, lining his cock with Bilbo’s hole and pushed in. Bilbo released his legs to wrap them around Bofur’s waist. Bofur slowly eased his way deeper, watching Bilbo’s face.

“Bofur, _faster_ ,” Bilbo commanded. “Make me feel you.” Bofur gripped Bilbo’s hips and slammed into him. Bilbo’s back arched and he clawed Bofur’s shoulders. “ _Fuck, yes! Yes! More! Harder, Bofur! Faster!_ ”

Bofur closed his eyes, hips stuttering to meet his lover’s demands. He opened them and watched Bilbo: eyes closed, skin flushed, mouth open and gasping. He shifted his hips and swiveled up. Bilbo screamed, squeezing around him, and came, stomach covered in come. Bofur shuddered and his own climax ripped through him like a flash of lightening. He saw spots and his arms shook to keep himself from landing on top of Bilbo. When he felt he could, he slowly pulled out of Bilbo and collapsed onto his back, panting. He forced himself to get up and fetch a cloth.

Bilbo groaned weakly, reaching for him. “Later. J’st hold me, Bof.” Bofur kissed him.

“In a mo’, Love.” He disposed of the condom and fetched a cloth to drench it in warm water, limply returning to Bilbo’s side, and wiped Bilbo clean before throwing the cloth aside and pulling him into his arms. “I love you,” he whispered. But Bilbo had already fallen asleep…

#

_Dis, it’s me..._

_He’s gone on a business trip..._

_Let me back in..._


	12. Chapter 12

~One Month Later~

It was nearly two in the morning when Bofur returned, listening to his phone ring.

“ _This is Bilbo Baggins’ cell,_ ” it said. “ _I cannot come to the phone right now, please leave a message or, if this is an emergency, please call…_ ”

Bofur descended the steps to the baggage claim. “Hey, Bilbo, I’m home.” He checked his watch, “I should’ve guessed you’d be asleep at this time. Sorry, Love. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” He stood beside the conveyor belt 12 and watched it jolt into motion. “I love you and can’t wait to see you again. Bye.” He hung up and stuffed his hands in his pockets, watching as suitcase after suitcase tumble down and be collected.

His bags, naturally, didn’t emerge for about twenty minutes and he fought down only God knows how many eye-watering yawns. After his had his own suitcase in hand, he exited the building and flagged down a taxi and gave his address.

By three o’clock, he finally closed his door and shucked off his coat—

His phone rang and Bofur furrowed his brow. He forgot to check the caller ID when he answered. “Hello?”

“ _Bofur?_ ”

“Who is this?”

“ _It’s Frodo. Are you home now?_ ”

“Yes. I just got in. Frodo, why are you calling me? Where’s Bilbo?”

“ _I…we…_ ” He heard the boy take a shaky breath. “ _Thorin has him—_ ”

Bofur grabbed his coat. “Frodo, what happened?”

“ _I don’t know,_ ” he said. “ _He showed up earlier tonight and…and…_ ”

“I’m coming right now, where are you?”

#

Bofur jumped out of the car, scanning the streets for Frodo. He found him, leaning against a wall. He was shaking and ghost white. “You okay?” Frodo nodded. “Do you know where Bilbo is?”

“I…I think so,” he said, swallowing. Frodo visibly trembled. “Th-this way.” He turned down the alley.

“Are you sure?”

Frodo nodded stiffly and walked toward the other end of the alley to a metal door. “In there?” Bofur asks. Frodo nods, worrying his lip. Bofur opened the door and descended the stairs. Frodo followed.

“Bofur, I’m sorry,” he said. Bofur turned to him. “I didn’t want it to happen this way.”

“What are you talking about, Lad?”

“You’ll see soon enough. I just…I wish there was an easier way, but I like you a lot and Bilbo loves you, but you were going to find this out sooner or later, and…look, I know what you’re about to see is…but just remember that he loves you, Bofur. He loves you a lot and I’ve not seen my uncle as happy as he is with you. Just…please, remember that.”

Bofur’s heart raced. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what was behind that door. Scenario after awful scenario flitted through his head. Frodo pushed past him and opened another door.

Bofur heard screaming, and stepped into the crowd. The overhead lights cast a dim, bronze glow around the room. He smelt blood and beer. The room was warm and Bofur soon wanted to shed his coat. Frodo pushed his way to the inner line of the circle.

It was Thorin. He had another man—not Bilbo—in a choke hold. His body, dressed only in ratty and bloodstained jeans, was slick was sweat. The man rammed the back of his head into Thorin’s nose. Thorin groaned, forced to release him. The man scrambled to his feet, slamming his fist into Thorin’s ribs. Thorin, blood dripping down his nose into his beard and mouth, grabbed that wrist and twisted it before ramming his foot into his opponent’s knee, forcing him to the ground. The man turned over and Thorin straddled him. He punched once. Twice. Thrice.

The man slapped the ground and Thorin got off him and helped him up.

“ _Another victory for Oakenshield! Let’s hear it for the champ!_ ”

Thorin ignored the applause, breathing heavily. A man started shouting a word and soon the crowd was screaming:

_Sting! Sting! Sting!_

A large man—unnaturally pale, and giant with rolling muscles and several scars along his body (Bofur wondered if he was albino…probably)—jumped into the arena. “Bring out Sting!” he demanded, pale blue eyes flashing.

_Sting! Sting! Sting!_

A hand clapped his shoulder. “You new?”

Bofur didn’t know how to respond.

“You’re in for a treat. Sting left for a while, but he came back a month ago. Seeing him fight…nothing like it!” the man giggled. “He might go easy on you when it’s your turn.”

“My-what?! No, I’m not fighting!”

“It’s the rules, Buddy,” another man said. “I’ve not seen you around here before. So unless you _have_ been coming to this club, you _need_ to fight.”

“Flex,” the first ordered.

“What?”

“Just do it, Man,” the second said. Bofur obeyed and his muscles were inspected.

“Damn, what do you _do_ for a living to have guns like this?” The first asked.

“Miner.”

“Cheh, that’s an unfair advantage,” the second man scoffed. “Ah well. Oh, he’s coming out. Feast your eyes, Miner, on the unbeatable Sting!”

Bofur turned back to the arena. There was the giant albino, of course and—

“Bilbo?!” Bofur shouted.

His shout was drowned out by the chanting scream of _Sting_. The albino towered over Bilbo and nearly twice Bilbo’s width. Bilbo’s torso and shoulders held a few new bruises.

Bofur blinked and gaped, confused.

 _What is going on? What is_ this _?! Why is he…what…_

“ _Fight!_ ”

The albino raised a fist, bringing it down on Bilbo.

Bilbo stepped out of the way and the man pulled back. He grabbed the albino’s arm and threw him to the ground.

The albino rolled away, barely dodging a punch.

“…bets!” a loud voice called behind him.

Bofur didn’t turn around, still fixed on Bilbo’s lithe form, slamming his opponent’s head into the ground.

“Place your bets! Defiler vs. Sting! Place your bets, gentlemen!”

The albino seized Bilbo’s neck easily lifting him off the ground and throwing him to the other side of the ring. Bilbo skidded along the ground, skin ripped of his back and bleeding.

The men beside Bofur winced.

“Ooh, that’ll hurt in the morning”

“Haha! It won’t matter, Azog’s gonna get his ass handed to him now!”

Bilbo climbed to his feet, and stretched. If he was in pain, he didn’t show it. He ran at Azog, eyes flashing with animalistic rage.

Azog tried to grab him, but Bilbo slid under between his legs and scaled up his back. He locked his arms around Azog’s neck and bit his ear.

Azog screamed, ripping Bilbo’s hair out of his scalp. It seemed to only get Bilbo to bite harder and tighten his grip. Azog gagged. He moved to pry Bilbo’s arms off and bit down on his forearm.

Bilbo screamed and Azog pulled him off.

He was slammed into the ground and choked for air. Azog gripped his throat and aimed his fist.

Bilbo wriggled free and Azog slammed his knuckles into the ground. Bilbo punched him in the ribs three times.

Azog went rigid and slammed his palm against the ground.

Bilbo backed away, breathing heavily.

“ _Stiiiing, ladies and gentlemen! The bastard never ceases to amaze, don’t he?! Give it up for Sting!_ ”

Bilbo helped Azog back up, patting his back as though it’d been a normal sport game where the fighters were normal sportsman and _weren’t_ trying to beat each other an inch from life!

Bofur felt like ice as gaps he had long ignored clicked into place. The bruises…the hesitancy to discuss them…his interactions with Thorin and then the others…the fight in the park…

Bilbo was never being abused. He was never in danger from Thorin. His friends were playing along with the lie Bilbo had told him this whole time.

“We’ve a new guy!” The second guy shouted above the crowd.

Eyes turned to him and Bofur couldn’t exactly name what he felt when those dark, bloodthirsty eyes shifted to him. Then his eyes found Bilbo and the dark smirk marring his lover’s face vanished to shock, confusion, and finally realization.

Fili touched Bilbo’s shoulder and whispered in his ear. Bilbo shook his head and responded.

Hands seized Bofur and he tried to pry them off as they stripped him of his coat, shirt, then his shoes and socks. He was pushed into the ring. Bilbo stepped closer.

A woman stepped into the ring between Bilbo and Bofur. She resembled Thorin too much for coincidence and Bofur guessed she was his sister, but the way the crowd died down when she stepped in, Bofur knew that this woman was the _queen_ of this club. Her blue eyes were cold and calculating as she inspected Bofur. She wore tight dark blue jeans and healed knee-high boots. She wore a form fitting black t-shirt and her long ebony hair was braided down her back.

“Is this your first time in a fight club of any kind?” she asked, her treble voice echoed off the cement.

“Yes,” he answered.

“Welcome to my club,” she said. “I am Dis Durin. Before you fight, there are only eight rules in this club that you need to be aware of: all are easy enough to follow.

“First, in entering this club, you are sworn to secrecy. Everyone you meet here is someone you might not interact with outside of these walls. If that is the case, you _never_ show any indication of knowing them. And even if you do know them, there is one topic you are _never_ to discuss: you do _not ever_ talk about Fight Club. This rule is so vital, it is not just the first rule, but also the second.

“If you are injured and it physically shows, if you tap the ground three times when pinned, or say ‘stop,’ the fight is over and our physician will look at you to assess your injuries.

“There will never be more than two fighters per fight and only one fight at a time. Each fight will take as long as it needs

“No weapons, no shirts, and no shoes. All else is fair game.

“Lastly, as you now know, all newcomers _must_ fight. After this fight, you may stay on the sidelines and make bets. You can issue challenges afterward too if you like. For your first fight, though, _I_ name your opponent. Any questions?”  Bofur shook his head. Dis smirked. “You will fight my son, Fili.”

Fili stepped out. “Mum.” Bofur blinked at him. This was _Fili’s mother_? Did that make Thorin his uncle? “Sting said he’d rather that he fight the newcomer.”

Dis shot a glare at him. “Sting was injured in the last fight.” She turned to Bilbo. “Go see Oin.”

“But—”

“ _Now_.”

Bilbo silenced, looked at Bofur once, and sighed his defeat. He disappeared into the crowd. Dis followed him and squeezed Fili’s shoulder, whispering in his ear. He nodded, stretching. A leonine countenance took over Fili and Bofur braced himself.

“ _Fight!_ ”


	13. Chapter 13

Bofur wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing.

All he knew was that he didn’t want to die and that Fili, it seemed, was keen on killing him.

He couldn’t think straight, so he acted, with nowhere to run, he fought back, but Fili easily dodged Bofur’s attacks, countering them. Bofur ached. His vision swam and he swallowed blood.

_How do I get out of this?_

He thought, trying to remember what Dis told him. He kicked Fili off him and got up, favoring his right leg over the left.

Fili approached and Bofur backed away. Fili held his hands up.

“Fight’s over, mate,” he said, “you’re limping. C’mon. I’ll help you over to Oin.”

He wrapped an arm around Bofur’s waist and pulled Bofur’s other arm around his neck, helping him out of the ring as the next duo entered.

Fili helped him into a chair as an older man stepped over.

“You went easy on him,” he stated, checking Bofur’s bruises and cuts.

“For Bilbo,” Fili said. “Where is he?”

“Upstairs lying down. Idiot wanted to watch the fight, but his back’s been rubbed raw.”

“It makes sense that he’d want to,” Fili said. “Anyone would want to watch if their lover was fighting, regardless of the reason. Speaking of which,” he turned to Bofur. “How did you find the club?”

“Frodo,” Bofur said, wincing as a cotton ball dipped in rubbing alcohol touched one of his cuts.

“Don’t be a baby,” the doctor snapped. Fili muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair.

“Fuck,” he said. “That little shit! Fuck! Bofur, look,” Fili squatted down. “Bilbo didn’t keep this from you because he wanted to. The rules are absolute and my mum would’ve had his hide if he told you anything about Fight Club.

“He came to her for advice a while ago, asking about how to clean up the mess that he made when he told you my uncle was his boyfriend. So we made up the story that they broke up and stuff, but Bilbo…he was restless or something, I guess. Wanted back in as soon as possible, so Mum let him come back while you were on your trip. None of us knew Frodo would do this. It wasn’t his place to also. Trust me: Bilbo didn’t want to lie to you about this, but…”

Bofur glared at him. “It’s a _club_ where he willing goes to get his _ass kicked_. For _months_ , I thought he had been abused. Sure, there was something off, I noticed that, but—”

“You chose to ignore it,” Fili said. “That was your choice and I think you made that choice because you trusted Bilbo would tell you the truth eventually. And I think he would have. He loves you, Bofur. It kills him to lie to you. At least let him explain when he comes back down. He owes you an explanation. Yes. But you owe it to him to listen to what he has to say.”

Bofur sighed, staring at the ground.

_If he lied about this, then what else?_

“Okay, you’re good. Your leg’s a bit bruised, but it should be fine in a week,” Oin said.

Bofur got up, wincing when sharp pain shot up his leg. “Where’re my clothes?”

“I’ll find them,” Fili said, “Go upstairs and talk to Bilbo. I’ll find you there and leave your stuff where you can get them.”

Bofur nodded and let Oin show him where Bilbo was. It was a gym. They were in a gym’s basement. He found Bilbo in an office, lying on his stomach on a couch, and his back covered in bloodying gauze.

“Feeling better?”

“My back is fine,” Bilbo snarled, pushing himself up on his elbows to glare at Oin. The hardness in his eyes vanished. “Bofur…” He tried to sit up, but Oin slapped the back of his head.

“You reckless idiot, _stay down_. I’ll be back when the hour’s up to change your bandages.”

Oin left, closing the door behind him. Bofur sat in a chair, staring at his hands. He sighed, leaning forward and blinking.

“Please say something,” Bilbo said. “I know you’re angry, so just get it out.”

“Fine,” Bofur said, lifting his head to look at Bilbo. “Let’s start with why you lied to me. I don’t give a shit about that bitch’s rules, Bilbo. _I_ needed to know about this. I _needed_ to know! I should have known this about you! Why the fuck didn’t you tell me? Why did you _really_ feel the need to lie to me and tell me a friend of yours was abusing you when he wasn’t hurting you at all? And don’t you _dare_ say it was because of those rules!”

“There wasn’t any other reason,” Bilbo said quietly.

Bofur scoffed, hanging his head. “Okay. So, you lied to me for no concrete, logical reason. You lied to me about _half_ of your _life_ for no reason at all. I had to find out about this from your nephew by letting him dragging me out here in the middle of the night, scaring the hell out of me because I thought you were in danger. Damn it, Bilbo…”

He sighed. His hands shook and he clasped them together. “Thorin…he’s just a friend?”

“He’s my trainer and, well, you know now that we fight together. But yes, he’s just a friend. We were never involved in any way. He’s straight, after all. He used to be unbeatable, but I faced him in my first fight a few months ago and won. It was unexpected even by me, but after that Dis and Thorin welcomed me into their inner circle. Thorin trained me how to fight. Apparently, I had hidden potential. All my friends you met at the Carrock were all Thorin’s friend’s originally…they welcomed me in quickly enough. Plus, they like the coffee at Bag End, so that helps.”

“All right,” Bofur sighed. “How did you get involved with them in the first place? What brought you to the club all those months ago?”

“Same as you: Frodo,” Bilbo said. “He was being bullied at school a lot before all of this and was dared by one of the bullies to enter a fight club. Well, he ended up lucking out and found _this_ one. I get a call from some guy named Nori telling me he found my nephew in Erebor when we live in the University district at one in the morning. Naturally, I’m furious, and I’m tired, but I go to get him anyway, thinking about how best to handle this…well, I end up finding him _in_ the club and got pushed into the ring and fought Thorin. And won.”

“And that’s it?”

“Yes,” Bilbo said. “That’s it.”

Bofur focused on breathing, trying to keep calm. He wanted to cry or to scream. “Since I met you, for _months_ , you kept this from me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You were as good as out! Why did you come back?!”

“I’m not part of the club against my will, Bofur. True, it’s illegal, but Dis and Thorin aren’t forcing me to fight. I fight freely. I…I just…” Bilbo propped himself up on his elbows. “Bofur, I love you, but I _need_ to fight. Otherwise I’m clawing at walls and feeling caged and I didn’t realize how much I _needed_ it until Tom started heckling us and I lost it and…” He sighed, bowing his head and running is hand through his hair. “I love you, Bofur. I really do love you—”

“But it’s not enough,” he said quietly.

Bilbo looked at him as though Bofur had slapped him.

“Loving me’s not enough, is it? I’m not enough.” Bofur winced, standing. “Try not to get yourself killed, all right?”

“Bofur, wait,” Bilbo winced, standing. He took Bofur’s wrists in his hands. “Please, don’t go. Please. We can fix this. Right? So please, don’t leave—”

“Why not?” Bofur snapped. “What were you going to tell me when we saw each other next if Frodo didn’t bring me here? Huh? Mugging? Thorin found you? What?! You think I wouldn’t have noticed that you were hurt all over again?!” He pulled his hands out of Bilbo’s grasp. “I’m done. I won’t be lied to, Bilbo. I won’t.”

He left the office, grimacing. He found his clothes on the ground and tugged them on.

Once outside, he found a taxi and went home. Only when the sun began to ascend did he manage to climb into bed. Bofur held his pillow close, burying his face into the fabric and allowed himself to weep.

#

It was near seven o’clock in the morning when the members started to leave, heading home for the day. For many, it was a good night. But not for everyone.

Fili found Frodo sitting with Kili and seized his shirt, lifting him off the ground.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” Fili shouted at him. “You stupid brat, what were you thinking?! What possessed you to _do that_ to your uncle?!”

“Fili!” Kili shouted. “Let go!”

Fili pushed his brother off. Kili ran off.

“I didn’t mean…I didn’t want it to…I thought it’d work out—”

“You idiot! How would bringing Bofur here _help_ their relationship in any way?!”

“Fili,” Dis shouted. “Let him go.”

“Mom!”

“ _Now_!”

Fili let Frodo go, stalking off. Frodo stared at the ground. Dis steered him over to a corner where Thorin, Dwalin, and Nori were talking quietly.

“All right, start from the beginning,” she said. “Why did you bring Bofur here?”

Frodo stared at the group before him, feeling quite small. “He’d…he’d have found out eventually.”

“Yes, when Bilbo was ready to tell him,” Dwalin said, crossing his arms.

“But this whole solution we came up with wasn’t a solution at all!” Frodo shouted. “It was just getting worse and the lie was getting bigger. Then Bilbo started coming back and I knew he’d be beaten up again when Bofur came back from Ireland, and he’d have freaked out and then there’d be more lies—”

“Whoa, whoa,” Nori said, “Slow down, Frodo. Deep breath, Lad.”

Frodo bit his lip. “I like Bofur. I know I never talked to him much, but Bilbo was happy with him and all the lying was just going to hurt them eventually, so when Bofur called tonight, I waited a little while and told him to come here. I never told him that it was a fight club, so I technically didn’t break any rules.”

“Frodo, that is not the point!” Dis said. “You’re heart was in the right place, but what you did is more likely to _ruin_ their relationship! More than any of the lies Bilbo had to tell Bofur to keep him from the club.” She sighed. “You are staying with me and Thorin for a few days until this all blows over.”

She looked at Thorin, who nodded and straightened.

“Come on,” Thorin said. “Let’s get you packed up. Dis?”

“I’ll keep him distracted for a while. Oin should be looking over him right now, so I’ll make sure he’s a little more thorough than usual.”

“Okay. I’ll call when we leave Bag End.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are literally one chapter away! (I think. We'll see...planing on one more though) So...quick question: 
> 
> Happy ending where while nothing is a-okay, Bilbo and Bofur get back together or...
> 
> Sad ending with character death?


	14. Chapter 14

Bofur stared at the coffee in front of him, feeling it cool in the mug held in his hands. Bombur wiped the table down on the other end. Each ring of the bell from behind him made him want to turn around and see if it was Bilbo. He wouldn’t deny missing Bilbo because he did.

He also wouldn’t deny that he was avoiding Bilbo. He had called several times, trying to get Bofur on the phone. For the life of him, Bofur couldn’t answer it. He needed time away from Bilbo. He couldn’t say they were over. Not yet. He wasn’t sure he was ready to let Bilbo go yet.

But at the same time, he wasn’t sure he could forgive Bilbo for lying to him like this. On _a_ level, he did understand. As far as shady pasts go, Bilbo’s wasn’t the worst. But to not tell him that he was a street fighter? To tell him that he was abused?

Bofur cursed himself. _How could I have been so stupid?!_

Bombur tossed the towel in a bin and went to Bofur. “So.”

“So…”

“What has you so down, Bof? And where is Bilbo?”

He averted his gaze back to the cold coffee in front of him. Bombur sighed and pulled it out of his hands. “Come on, over to one of the back booths.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“And I don’t want to see my brother moping like this.”

Bofur glared at Bombur as he was pulled out of his seat and half-carried to the booth. “I’m not moping.”

“Brooding then.”

“Not that either.”

“That you’re not trying to hide how upset you are makes me worried. You usually hide it. That you’re not tells me that something is _definitely_ wrong. I’ve confided in you before. What’s wrong with confiding in me?” Bombur dumped him down into a booth seat and squeezed into the other side. “Now what happened? Are you and Bilbo okay?”

Bofur shifted his gaze to the table. His hands shook. “No. We aren’t.”

“What happened?” Bombur asked. Bofur swallowed. His throat felt like a large rubber ball had been inflated in it and his eyes stung.

The words were difficult to find, but once he started to talk, they came flowing out. Coming home, Frodo calling him, finding the club…

Bombur supplied napkins as the tears Bofur wished to keep back flowed against his will. He was grateful for the privacy as he try to stem the tears.

“I understand you’re angry,” Bombur said. “And I agree that Bilbo should not have lied to you. And I agree that it can’t be healthy. But I think he loves _that_ in a much different way than he loves you. It’s not the same kind of love. Isn’t there some way you can accept it?”

Bofur shook his head. “It hurt when I thought he was being abused. Too much. I often wondered how anyone could hurt someone as nice as Bilbo. Well, I feel that way about _any_ sort of abuse, but…but knowing he _willingly_ goes and gets beat up…that he’s addicted to pain…I don’t know…that hurts worse. Much worse.”

“When was the last time you spoke to him?”

“A couple weeks ago,” Bofur admitted. He shook his head. “I don’t know how else to react to this, Bombur. I love him, but I can’t condone this. I won’t. Seeing him hurt breaks my heart too much for me to condone it. I don’t know what to do.”

Bombur sighed. “I can’t tell you what to do. The only thing you really _can_ do is talk to him about this with an open mind. Try to see his side. He’s fighting for a reason. He said he felt caged if he couldn’t fight, right?” Bofur nodded. “Find out why. He might have a very good reason behind it.”

Bofur sighed. “He’s beautiful. Why would he want to mar…” He cut himself off, chewing his lip and furrowed his brow, wondering if Bilbo already told him why he liked to fight.

_My God, you’re beautiful._

_Not a woman._

_Beautiful all the same. What? Men can’t be beautiful?_

_Not exactly in our genetic code._

_I have a hard time believing that. And I think so do you._

_So I have some masculinity issues, nothing really important._

_I think you’re very masculine as you are._

“You look like you had an epiphany,” Bombur said. Bofur pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Would you say insecurity would be reason enough?” he asked.

“Most definitely. But Bilbo’s got a secure job. He’s able to provide for himself and a kid, right?” Bofur nodded. “Then what would he be insecure about?”

“He thinks he’s effeminate and it bothers him.”

“Then why are you still talking to me?” Bombur asked. “Get out of here and talk to him about that. Good God, there’s a reason I’m already married with kids…”

Bofur stood, pulling his phone out to call Bilbo. The door almost hit his nose. Nori almost recoiled. “Thank God, you’re here,” he huffed.

“Why are you here?” Bofur asked. “Bilbo…is Bilbo okay?”

“He fought tonight. His opponent got a bit carried away and he’s been knocked out. We can’t wake him, so we had to get him to the hospital. We’re calling it an assault for now.” Nori wrung his hands together. “The guys are with him right now, but I came to get you. I figured you should at least know. Whether you come or not is up to you.”

“Which hospital?”

Nori blinked. “What?”

“ _Which hospital_!” Bofur demanded.

Nori grabbed his coat. “Come on. I’ll take you there.”

#

Bilbo was still in the ER when they arrived. Frodo was shaking in his seat, legs pulled up and his face hidden by his knees, while Fili tried to keep him calm. Dis was talking to the doctor. Dwalin leaned against a wall, staring at the floor.

“Where’s Thorin?” Nori asked.

“Outside, smoking more than a chimney,” Dwalin answered. “He feels responsible for what happened tonight.”

Bofur balls his hands into fists.

“He should,” he hissed. “None of this would have happened if Bilbo wasn’t dragged into your world!” The others looked at him, unsure how to react to his animosity.

Dis frowned at Bofur and approached him.  

“Anything you want to say will be said to _me_ ,” she snarled. “All we did was invite him to join us. After that, it was entirely his decision. So do _not_ blame my brother for a decision Bilbo made. Bilbo is _my_ fighter. As is my brother. This,” she waved around the hospital, “Is a more common occurrence than you think. Bilbo was lucky to have gotten this far without needing to be hospitalized before now. It was bound to happen eventually even though I do not allow fighters to go this far. Even so, it still happens. So far, everything is fine. Bilbo will be all right. They’ll be moving him out of the ER within an hour or two. My sentimental brother is close to Bilbo and feels guilty because he didn’t realize Bilbo was as badly injured as he was until he was coughing blood.”

“This never should have happened!”

“Of course not.” Dis crossed her arms. “But it did and we cannot let ourselves be attached to what _has_ happened. All we _can_ do is deal with it as maturely as possible. Pointing fingers and laying blame will _not_ help Bilbo recover. Being here for him, on the other hand, will. The doctors are hopeful for him. He’s responding well, which is good. There is a high chance he’ll survive the night and from there, it’s all on him to get better and wake up.”

Bofur sighed, sitting down and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Dis knelt, balanced on the balls of her feet.

“Bofur, he loves you. The last time I’ve seen someone look like the way Bilbo does when he’s with you, it was in my husband’s eyes. Fighting for me was still his decision and we wouldn’t stop him from walking away if he chose to. There is no shame in that. We often have fighters coming and going for whatever reason. Bilbo is our friend too and we love him just as much. He’s a good man and he _will_ get through this. I don’t expect you to condone what we do. Nor do I expect you to accept or tolerate it. But I do hope you will try to understand.”

Bofur released as shaky breath. Dis stood and walked away. He heard her speak to Fili and Frodo. Whether Bilbo was responsive or not, Bofur felt it was going to be a long night.

#

Two days passed. Bofur called in an emergency leave from work, preferring to stay by Bilbo’s side. Besides, he feared what could happen if he was at work and distracted.

Frodo visited after school and they talked most of the time. “I only wanted to help. Bilbo was happy with you and I was afraid of _this_ happening…not the hospital thing, but what would happen if you found out in a worse way.”

Bofur understood and he was grateful. He wished it went as well as Frodo hoped it would. The kid may be a bit of a troublemaker, but he wasn’t a bad kid.

“I’m not mad at you,” he assured Frodo. “I’m not mad.”

#

When Bilbo woke, it was the middle of the night. Bofur called for the nurse and was shooed from the room while the doctor was called and Bilbo monitored.

Most of the wires and tubes he was hooked to came out or off, now that he could breathe on his own.

The injuries were still quite extensive, especially around his torso and abdomen, and he wasn’t allowed to do anything too strenuous.  Walking was allowed in small doses when Bilbo was allowed to get up next.

After the doctor left and the nurses made Bilbo take his pills, he and Bofur were alone.

The silence choked him and Bilbo refused to look at him, staring at his hands.

“I’m sorry,” Bilbo said after only who knows how long. Bofur looked up at him. “I’m sorry for keeping the fight club a secret.” He fisted the blankets. “I love you.”

Bofur stood and shifted to sit on the bed beside him.

“I love you, too,” he said, pulling Bilbo into a hug. “And I missed you and I was worried. Bilbo, it kills me knowing you willingly get beaten up. It breaks my heart to see you hurt. Can’t you understand that?”

Bilbo nodded, hiding his face in Bofur’s shirt. His breathing was shaky and Bofur could feel Bilbo’s tears seep through his shirt.

“I’m here now, Love,” Bofur said. “I’m not going anywhere."

~The End~


End file.
